le's knocking, and after a growl of
disfavour admitted the youth and his companion.

"What, gone--my master gone!" cried Gilles, striking his hand on his
thigh with an astounded air, "impossible!"

"It was, indeed, a thing particularly unthoughtful and discourteous of
my Lord de Retz, Marshal of France and Chamberlain of the King, to
undertake a journey without consulting you," replied the man, who
considered irony his strong point, but feebly concealing his pleasure
at the favourite's discomfiture; "we all know upon what terms your
honourable self is with my lord. But you must not blame him, for he
waited whole twenty-four hours for news of you. It was reported that
you were set upon by four giants, and that your bones, crushed like a
filbert, had been discovered in the horse pond at the back of the
Convent of the Virgins of Complaisance."

Gilles de Sille looked as if he could very well have murdered the
speaker on the spot. His favour with his lord was evidently not a
thing of repute in his master's household. So much was clear to
Laurence, who, for the first time, began to have fears as to his own
reception, having such an unpopular person as voucher and introducer.

"If you do not keep a civil tongue in your head, sirrah Labord,"--the
youth hissed the words through his clenched teeth,--"I will have your
throat cut."

"Ah, I am too old," said the man, boldly; "besides, this is Paris, and
I have been twenty years concierge to his Grace the Duke of Orleans. I
and my wife have his secrets even as you, most noble Sire de Sille,
possess those of my new master. You, or he either, by God's grace,
will think twice before cutting my throat. Moreover, you will be good
enough at this point to state your business or get to bed. For I am
off to mine. I serve my master, but I am not compelled to spend the
night parleying with his lacqueys."

Now the concierges of Paris are very free and independent personages,
and their tongues are accustomed to wag freely and to some purpose in
their heads.

"Whither has my master gone?" asked de Sille, curbing his wrath in
order to get an answer.

"He _said_ that he went to Tiffauges. Whether that be true, you have
better means of knowing than I."

The swarthy youth turned to Laurence.

"How much money have you, Master O'Halloran? I have spent all of mine,
and this city swine will not lend me a single sou for my expenses. We
must to the stables and follow the Sieur de Retz forthwit