er.

"That is all at present," she whispered. I had the discretion to move
on. There were, as usual, several armed fellows idling about the
court-yard, but none seemed to have observed that any word had passed
between the kitchen-maid and me.

Here was matter for astonishment and conjecture for the next few hours.
In some manner or other, those hours passed, and at four I was seated in
my chamber, having left the door open an inch or so. The turret clock
had scarce done striking when the door was pushed wide; somebody entered
and instantly closed it. I had a brief feeling of disappointment as I
saw the slovenly frock and overhanging cap of the kitchen-maid. Was it
she, then, who paid me the compliment of this clandestine visit?

No; for the cap was swiftly flung back from the brow, and there was the
bright and comely face of Mathilde. I uttered her name in pleased
surprise.

"Yes," she said quickly, "Mathilde in the guise of Brigitte. I have come
from Madame the Countess."

"And where is she?" I asked eagerly.

"In the great tower."

"A prisoner?"

"Yes, and I with her. Fortunately there was nothing else to do with me,
unless they killed me. So I am able to attend her."

"Faithful Mathilde! But why is this?"

"It is the fulfilment of the Count's threat in case Madame could not
clear herself of that false charge."

"But the Count knew that Monsieur de Merri was coming here. I told him."

"Yes, Monsieur, but the Count would believe as much of your story as
Captain Ferragant would choose to let him. Your very interest in
Madame's fate has been new food for his jealousy."

"God forbid!"

"It is not your fault, Monsieur; it is the Count's madness. He locks his
wife up, as much that she may be inaccessible to you and all other men,
as because of anything concerning Monsieur de Merri."

"You may well call it his madness."

"Yes; for, whatever other ladies may have deserved who have been treated
thus, the Countess is the most virtuous of wives. Her regard for her
marriage vows--in spite of the husband she has--is a part of her
religion. But his mind is poisoned. He naturally believes that a young
and beautiful woman would not be faithful to an old wolf like him. And
he is almost right, for there is only one young and beautiful woman in
France who would be, and that is the Countess."

"Surely not because she loves him?"

"Oh, no. It is because of her religion. She was brought up at a convent
school, and w