e with anger at being thus treated by a beardless boy.
But he faltered all the same. What I said was unpleasant, but the
bravo knew it was true.

I saw the impression I had made, and I turned to the soldiers standing
round.

"Bring here, my friends," I said, "M. de Pavannes' sword!"

One ran up to the guard house and brought it at once. They were
townsfolk, burgher guards or such like, and for some reason betrayed so
evident a respect for me, that I soberly believe they would have turned
on their temporary leader at my bidding. Pavannes took his sword, and
placed it under his arm. We both bowed ceremoniously to Pallavicini,
who scowled in response; and slowly, for I was afraid to show any signs
of haste, we walked across the moonlit space to the bottom of the
street by which I had come. There the gloom swallowed us up at once.
Pavannes touched my sleeve and stopped in the darkness.

"I beg to be allowed to thank you for your aid," he said with emotion,
turning and facing me. "Whom have I the honour of addressing?"

"M. Anne de Caylus, a friend of your cousin," I replied.

"Indeed?" he said "well, I thank you most heartily," and we embraced
with warmth.

"But I could have done little," I answered modestly, "on your behalf,
if it had not been for this ring."

"And the virtue of the ring lies in--"

"In--I am sure I cannot say in what!" I confessed. And then, in the
sympathy which the scene had naturally created between us, I forgot one
portion of my lady's commands and I added impulsively, "All I know is
that Madame d'O gave it me; and that it has done all, and more than all
she said it would."

"Who gave it to you?" he asked, grasping my arm so tightly as to hurt
me.

"Madame d'O," I repeated. It was too late to draw back now.

"That woman!" he ejaculated in a strange low whisper. "Is it
possible? That woman gave it you?"

I wandered what on earth he meant, surprise, scorn and dislike were so
blended in his tone. It even seemed to me that he drew off from me
somewhat. "Yes, M. de Pavannes," I replied, offended and indignant,
"It is so far possible that it is the truth; and more, I think you
would not so speak of this lady if you knew all; and that it was
through her your wife was to-day freed from those who were detaining
her, and taken safely home!"

"Ha!" he cried eagerly. "Then where has my wife been?"

"At the house of Mirepoix, the glover," I answered coldly, "in the Rue
Platrier