the very stars are with us! What is there that makes you
hesitate? By to-morrow evening we will be with our own people, and
henceforth I will always be by your side to defend you."

She stopped him with an impatient gesture of her hand. Even where she
stood in the half light I saw the red rush to her cheeks at his last
words; and then she asked:

"Monsieur Broussel, I too have been learning, or rather guessing, at
some things since I came down here. Is it you that Monsieur le Vicomte
has to thank for his life?"

I did not answer; but De Ganache began to speak as one defending
himself:

"I do thank him; but when I told you of this I did not know Monsieur
Broussel's name, Diane."

"All this does not concern the matter," I cut in. "What mademoiselle
has to decide is whether she will go on to Paris or not. Which shall
it be?" And I faced her.

A little silence, and her eyes refused to meet mine. Then she said
faintly: "I--I do not know."

All depended on a single turn, but it was De Ganache himself who threw
his cards away. Stepping up to mademoiselle he put his arm through
hers, and with an air of command, almost proprietorship, he said:

"Come, Diane, we waste time here, and we have far to go. I shall give
Monsieur Broussel his thanks another day."

She looked up at him--such a look!--and withdrew her arm.

"Monsieur de Ganache," she said, "you take too much on yourself. I
have decided, and I shall go to Paris."

De Ganache looked at her and laughed bitterly. Then he broke forth
into weak reviling at womankind. She let him run on, and at last he
asked:

"And after all I have done and risked this--this is your answer?"

"My answer--to everything, monsieur." And with this she turned from
him, and passing me went up the stair, back to her apartments.

I was standing a little apart, leaning on my sword, hardly able to
believe my ears, and wondering at the ways of womankind. De Ganache
had taken up his hat, and was nervously tearing at the plume, his lips
moving with unspoken words. All at once he turned to me, and his voice
was hoarse with passion:

"Monsieur, you have won. I set this against this morning. And we are
quits. Quits, you understand?"

I bowed, but made no answer. The man was beside himself, and the
slightest word would have led to his drawing on me, and for
mademoiselle's sake I held myself in.

"Pechaud!" he went on, "my horse."

And crushing his hat on his head he p