d before his proud anger, and for
the second time stood with hanging head awaiting his sentence. And again
he did what I could not guess. He cried out:

"Felix, you are blind, besotted, mad. You know not what you do. I am in
constant danger. The city is filled with my enemies. The Leagues hate me
and are ever plotting mischief against me. Every day their mistrust and
hatred grow. I did a bold thing in coming to Paris, but I had a great
end to serve--to pave a way into the capital for the Catholic king and
bring the land to peace. For that, I live in hourly jeopardy, and risk
my life to-night on foot in the streets. If I am killed, more than my
life is lost. The Church may lose the king, and this dear France of ours
be harried to a desert in the civil wars!"

I had braced myself to bear Monsieur's anger, but this unlooked-for
appeal pierced me through and through. All the love and loyalty in
me--and I had much, though it may not have seemed so--rose in answer to
Monsieur's call. I fell on my knees before him, choked with sobs.

Monsieur's hand lay on my head as he said quietly:

"Now, Felix, speak."

I answered huskily:

"Would Monsieur have me turn Judas?"

"Judas betrayed his _master_."

It was my last stand. My last redoubt had fallen. I raised my head to
tell him all.

Maybe it was the tears in my eyes, but as I lifted them to M. le Duc, I
saw--not him, but Yeux-gris--Yeux-gris looking at me with warm good
will, as he had looked when he was saving me from Gervais. I saw him, I
say, plain before my eyes. The next instant there was nothing but
Monsieur's face of rising impatience.

I rose to my feet, and said:

"Kill me, Monsieur; I cannot tell."

"Nom de dieu!" he shouted, springing up.

I shut my eyes and waited. Had he slain me then and there it were no
more than my deserts.

"Monsieur," said Vigo, immovably, "shall I go for the boot?"

I opened my eyes then. Monsieur stood quite still, his brow knotted, his
hands clenched as if to keep them off me.

"Monsieur," I said, "send for the boot, the thumbscrew, whatever you
please. I deserve it, and I will bear it. Monsieur, it is not that I
will not tell. It is something stronger than I. I _cannot_."

He burst into an angry laugh.

"Say you are possessed of a devil, and I will believe it. My faith!
though you are a low-born lad and I Duke of St. Quentin, I seem to be
getting the worst of it."

"There is the boot, Monsieur."

Monsieur laughed ag