streaked with grey. Her eyes had lost the brazen fire that
had shone in them once. Wretched and miserable indeed she looked. But
this was not the La Marmotte of the past but another woman.

She put the candle down and turned to me.

"Monsieur, I have asked you to come here because we can be alone here
and uninterrupted, and that which I have to say to you concerns the
life, perhaps, of Mademoiselle de Paradis. Monsieur, you may not
believe me, but from that dreadful night at Le Jaquemart I have become
a changed woman. I have learned, monsieur, how to pray, and, my God!
the past--the past!" And she put her hands to her face and shuddered.

"Madame, there is always a future."

"But never for a woman! Oh, Monsieur d'Orrain--for I know your name
now--you know this as well as I."

I made no answer. What could I say? And she went on:

"Listen! After that night I brought him--Trotto--back to Paris as soon
as he was able to move. He was badly hurt, but not so badly as we
thought; and he lives for revenge. Your brother the Vidame is in a
house in the Rue des Lavandieres, into which he has recently moved.
There I brought Trotto. Here I found Malsain and some others; and,
believing me to be what I was before, they spoke freely before me. For
you, monsieur, I warn you to fear the bravo's knife; they will not face
you openly."

"I will try and take care of myself. But what is it that concerns
mademoiselle?"

"This much I know, monsieur: the Vidame wants her for himself, or
rather her wealth. The plan he has conceived is as follows:--the edict
against the heretics is to be revived suddenly, and mademoiselle is to
be accused. And you know what this means, with Dom Antoine de Mouchy
as judge."

"But how will this gain the Vidame his wish?"

"To explain that, monsieur, is one of the reasons I have brought you
here." And moving towards the window she opened it cautiously. As she
did so there appeared, about three feet or more away, the grey and
mottled surface of a blank wall.

"Look!" she said.

I looked out of the window. The walls of the two houses stood about
three feet apart. Below me was a deep, narrow space, shut in on all
sides except from the top. In the opposite wall was a window partly
open, below which ran a narrow ledge. This window faced the one I was
standing at, but was placed about a yard or so higher, so that anyone
standing there could look into the room in which we were. All thi