we
ourselves rode directly towards the main entrance. On arrival there we
noticed a large crowd of sightseers at the gates, and our further
progress was stopped by a carriage, surrounded by a troop of the King's
guards, that came slowly out of the gate. In the carriage sat, or
rather reclined, a woman robed in black and white--a woman with sullen,
dark eyes and a face lovely in its pride. It was the crescent
moon--Diane herself. The carriage came out slowly, as I have said, the
horses walking, and from where I rode beside mademoiselle I saw her
clearly. She was toying with a little dog she held under her arm and
talking to a young man who sat facing her--a man whose face burned like
fire, and the laugh on whose lips died away when he saw us--for it was
De Ganache. The Duchess followed his glance, and turned in our
direction. As her fathomless eyes fell on mademoiselle her lips parted
in a smile.

"St. Siege! it must be your little heiress. Come, tell me, De
Ganache--is it not so?"

Her voice, clear as a bell, came to us distinctly. The veiled scorn
and mockery in her glance was not to be mistaken, and then the horses
were whipped up, and she was gone. It was all over in a moment; but I
saw the riding-whip in mademoiselle's hand trembling, and she kept her
face from me, looking straight between her horse's ears.

"Do you know who that was?" I asked in a low voice; but she made no
answer, and I went on:

"Remember the prophecy you told me of, and--be on your guard against
the woman in black and white. That was Diane of Valentinois."

CHAPTER XX

THE CROWN JEWELS

An hour later I sat with Lorgnac and Le Brusquet in a little room in
the former's house in the Rue Tire Boudin. At the Louvre I had
discovered that there was no chance of my being able to see the Queen
until after the supper hour; and so I accepted the hospitality De
Lorgnac offered me, and was back again in the very house in which I had
spent my last night in Paris.

A few minutes after our arrival Le Brusquet ambled up on a Spanish
mule, and soon we three were deep in discussing what had happened since
the day I rode out of the Porte St. Michel. I had perforce to relate
my own adventures, and when I described my meeting with La Marmotte and
her strange request De Lorgnac rose from his seat, and approaching the
window, said:

"You can see Maitre Barou's store from here. It abuts on my stables,
and you will not have far to go to k