I can deliver to no other hands than hers!" He
held it up as he spoke, a thin scrap of greyish paper, the fly-leaf of a
missal perhaps. "See!" he continued, "and take notice! If she does not
get this, and learns when it is too late that it was offered--"

"The terms," Carlat growled impatiently. "The terms! Come to them!"

"You will have them?" the man answered, nervously passing his tongue over
his lips. "You will not let me see her, or speak to her privately?"

"No."

"Then hear them. His Excellency is informed that one Hannibal de
Tavannes, guilty of the detestable crime of sacrilege and of other gross
crimes, has taken refuge here. He requires that the said Hannibal de
Tavannes be handed to him for punishment, and, this being done before
sunset this evening, he will yield to you free and uninjured the said M.
de Tignonville, and will retire from the lands of Vrillac. But if you
refuse"--the man passed his eye along the line of attentive faces which
fringed the battlement--"he will at sunset hang the said Tignonville on
the gallows raised for Tavannes, and will harry the demesne of Vrillac to
its farthest border!"

There was a long silence on the gate. Some, their gaze still fixed on
him, moved their lips as if they chewed. Others looked aside, met their
fellows' eyes in a pregnant glance, and slowly returned to him. But no
one spoke. At his back the flush of dawn was flooding the east, and
spreading and waxing brighter. The air was growing warm; the shore
below, from grey, was turning green.

In a minute or two the sun, whose glowing marge already peeped above the
low hills of France, would top the horizon.

The man, getting no answer, shifted his feet uneasily. "Well," he cried,
"what answer am I to take?"

Still no one moved.

"I've done my part. Will no one give her the letter?" he cried. And he
held it up. "Give me my answer, for I am going."

"Take the letter!" The words came from the rear of the group in a voice
that startled all. They turned, as though some one had struck them, and
saw the Countess standing beside the hood which covered the stairs. They
guessed that she had heard all or nearly all; but the glory of the
sunrise, shining full on her at that moment, lent a false warmth to her
face, and life to eyes woefully and tragically set. It was not easy to
say whether she had heard or not. "Take the letter," she repeated.

Carlat looked helplessly over the parapet.

"G