ocence,
such a perverter of youth."

He crimsoned to the very roots of his hair.

Roxalanne broke into a laugh. "My cousin, my cousin," she cried, "they
that would become masters should begin early, is it not so?"

"Monsieur de Lesperon," said he, in a very formal voice, "do you wish me
to apprehend that you have put me through this catechism for the purpose
of casting a doubt upon what I have said?"

"But have I done that? Have I cast a doubt?" I asked, with the utmost
meekness.

"So I apprehend."

"Then you apprehend amiss. Your words, I assure you, admit of no doubt
whatever. And now, monsieur, if you will have mercy upon me, we will
talk of other things. I am so weary of this unfortunate Bardelys and his
affairs. He may be the fashion of Paris and at Court, but down here his
very name befouls the air. Mademoiselle," I said, turning to Roxalanne,
"you promised me a lesson in the lore of flowers."

"Come, then," said she, and, being an exceedingly wise child, she
plunged straightway into the history of the shrubs about us.

Thus did we avert a storm that for a moment was very imminent. Yet some
mischief was done, and some good, too, perhaps. For if I made an enemy
of the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache by humbling him in the eyes of the
one woman before whom he sought to shine, I established a bond 'twixt
Roxalanne and myself by that same humiliation of a foolish coxcomb,
whose boastfulness had long wearied her.

CHAPTER VII. THE HOSTILITY OF SAINT-EUSTACHE

In the days that followed I saw much of the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache.
He was a very constant visitor at Lavedan, and the reason of it was not
far to seek. For my own part, I disliked him--I had done so from
the moment when first I had set eyes on him--and since hatred, like
affection, is often a matter of reciprocity, the Chevalier was not slow
to return my dislike. Our manner gradually, by almost imperceptible
stages, grew more distant, until by the end of a week it had become so
hostile that Lavedan found occasion to comment upon it.

"Beware of Saint-Eustache," he warned me. "You are becoming very
manifestly distasteful to each other, and I would urge you to have a
care. I don't trust him. His attachment to our Cause is of a lukewarm
character, and he gives me uneasiness, for he may do much harm if he
is so inclined. It is on this account that I tolerate his presence at
Lavedan. Frankly, I fear him, and I would counsel you to do no less. The