e, he told me to scream, so they would think he was half
flaying me. But in truth he did not strike very hard. He did not hurt so
much."

She struggled to check the rising tempest of her tears, and presently
dropped her hands and looked at me earnestly from out her shining wet
eyes. "Is that true? Are you not flayed?" And to make sure, she laid her
hand delicately on my back.

"They have whacked your coat to ribbons, but, thank St. Genevieve, they
have not brought the blood. I saw a man flogged once--" she shut her
eyes, shuddering, and her mouth quivered anew. "But I am not much hurt,
mademoiselle," I answered her.

She took out her film of a handkerchief to wipe her wet cheeks, her hand
still trembling. I could think of nothing but to repeat:

"I am not in the least hurt, mademoiselle."

"Ah, but if they have spared you the flogging to take your life!" she
breathed.

It was not a heartening suggestion. To my astonishment, suddenly I found
myself, frightened victim, striving to comfort this noblewoman for my
death.

"Nay, I am not afraid. Since mademoiselle weeps over me, I can die
happily."

She sprang toward me as if to protect me with her body from some
menacing thrust.

"They shall not kill you!" she cried, her eyes flashing blue fire. "They
shall not! Mon dieu! is Lorance de Montluc so feeble a thing that she
cannot save a serving-boy?"

She fell back a pace, pressing her hands to her temples as if to stifle
their throbbing.

"It was my fault," she cried--"it was all my fault. It was my vanity and
silliness brought you to this. I should never have written that
letter--a three years' child would have known better. But I had not seen
M. de Mar for five weeks--I did not know, what I readily guess now, that
he had taken sides against us. M. de Lorraine played on my pique."

"Mademoiselle," I said, "the worst has not followed, since M. Etienne
did not come himself."

"You are glad for that?"

"Why, of course, mademoiselle. Was it not a trap for him?"

She caught her breath as if in pain.

"I knew that as soon as I saw that my cousin Mayenne was not angry. When
I told what I had done and he smiled at me and said I should have my
gloves, why, then I thought my heart would stop beating. I saw what I
had accomplished--mon dieu, I was sick with repentance of it!"

I had to tell her I had not thought it.

"No," she answered; "I had got you into this by my foolishness; I must
needs try to get you out