y," I said, "I have but my word to offer for this--I have
none who will add his pledge to mine."

"No one? Are you sure?"

"Your Majesty, it is as I have said."

A faint smile parted her lips, and she looked up at me suddenly and
quickly, her eyes as alive with intelligence as they had appeared dull
and lifeless before.

"Well, monsieur, before I trust you," and she struck the glove she held
in her hand on the table, "it is necessary for me to tell you
something. Listen. Many years ago--I was new to France then--a young
gentleman of the best blood of Burgundy came to Paris, and entered at
the College of Cambrai. Well, he did what none other of his time did,
nor has any of his order done the like since. He took the three
courses--took them brilliantly. You follow me?"

"I am all attention, madame." My voice was as cold and measured as
hers, but in my heart I began to wonder if I would leave the room for a
journey to Montfaucon, with a halt by the way at the Chatelet.

"But," she continued, "this man was not a mere bookworm nor a pedant,
though Le Brun, whose voice was the voice of the Sorbonne then,
prophesied a red hat for him. The red hat never came, nor did a
marshal's baton, though Bevilacqua himself foretold the latter one day,
as he brushed away a chalk mark just over the heart, where this young
man's foil had touched him. Bevilacqua, mind you--the best sword in
Europe!"

I made as if about to speak. I was about to ask her bluntly what was
to be the end of this, but with a wave of her hand she stayed me.

"Permit me to continue, monsieur! This man, or boy as he was then, was
true metal all through, but he was cursed with an open heart and
wealth. Let us say that the course of Philosophy unsettled his mind,
that the two campaigns in Italy brought but withered laurels. Let it
be what you will, but back he came to Paris; and because his blood was
warm, his spirits high, and his heart full of vanity and vain
imaginings, the red wine was poured forth, the dice rattled, fair women
smiled, and the gold crowns went. It was the old, old story; but the
pity of it, monsieur, was that it was such pure good steel that was
fretting thus to rust! Was it not?"

She stopped, and looked at me again with her wonderful, searching eyes,
and I braced myself, as one who was about to receive a death-blow.

"At last the end came. This brave, gallant--fool--yes, that is the
word--quarrelled with his best friend o