hands, and I dared not
make any disturbance on her account.

"But, Monsieur," she said to Jacques Haret, "you must let Peter, my
servant, come to me--he followed me on foot all the distance from the
garden."

"I will! I will!"

Jacques Haret ran out and fetched Peter, who was outside the door.
Peter dashed in, ran up to Francezka and began to cry:

"Oh, my darling little mistress! Oh, what will madame say to you? What
will she do to you?"

I gave him a look of warning, which checked his lamentations. He
squeezed himself into a little place back of the improvised stage, and
from there I watched his anxious face during what followed.

Jacques Haret mustered the children on the stage, gave them such
directions as were necessary, and then the sound of voices and
laughter was heard, the door opened, and in came the Grand Prieur and
his company of guests. There were thirty or forty of them, all
gentlemen of the first quality, wearing their swords, and many of them
showed their wine. A crowd of servants bearing candles came after
them. These, Jacques Haret ranged as torch-bearers in front of the
improvised stage. The guests were provided with benches, and the
performance began. It was _Madame Mariamne and Monsieur Herod_.

And then a new and terrible danger presented itself. It was quite
possible that among these bewigged and bepowdered gentlemen, with
their velvet coats and silk stockings, might be some frequenters of
Madame Riano's saloons--and then!

I watched their faces closely, and soon satisfied myself that none of
them recognized Mademoiselle Capello, unless it were a young
gentleman, Gaston Cheverny by name, who stood near the stage, close to
old Peter. Fate delights in mountebank tricks. On the same day, I saw
for the first time those two persons with whose lives my life was
henceforth bound--Francezka Capello and Gaston Cheverny.

I noticed that this Cheverny was not more than twenty, and was not
regularly handsome, although extremely well built and graceful. I took
it that he was a youth of parts, or he would not be found, at his age,
in the company of the Grand Prieur, who hated dullards. And as fate
would have it, I loved Gaston Cheverny the first instant my eyes
rested on him.

The performance began, and Mademoiselle Capello came upon the stage,
and acted as if inspired. Circumstanced as she was, she was bound to
act her best or her worst--and it was her best. She soon had her
audience in convulsi