endured these five years. He loved me well when I was little; he called
me 'Marie-full-of-grace,' because I was ugly. Ah! if he knew the man to
whom he gave me, his anger would be terrible. I have not dared complain,
out of pity for the count. Besides, how could I reach the king?
My confessor himself is a spy of Saint-Vallier. That is why I have
consented to this guilty meeting, to obtain a defender,--some one to
tell the truth to the king. Can I rely on--Oh!" she cried, turning pale
and interrupting herself, "here comes the page!"

The poor countess put her hands before her face as if to veil it.

"Fear nothing," said the young seigneur, "he is won! You can safely
trust him; he belongs to me. When the count contrives to return for you
he will warn us of his coming. In the confessional," he added, in a low
voice, "is a priest, a friend of mine, who will tell him that he drew
you for safety out of the crowd, and placed you under his own protection
in this chapel. Therefore, everything is arranged to deceive him."

At these words the tears of the poor woman stopped, but an expression of
sadness settled down on her face.

"No one can deceive him," she said. "To-night he will know all. Save me
from his blows! Go to Plessis, see the king, tell him--" she hesitated;
then, some dreadful recollection giving her courage to confess the
secrets of her marriage, she added: "Yes, tell him that to master me the
count bleeds me in both arms--to exhaust me. Tell him that my husband
drags me about by the hair of my head. Say that I am a prisoner; that--"

Her heart swelled, sobs choked her throat, tears fell from her eyes. In
her agitation she allowed the young man, who was muttering broken words,
to kiss her hands.

"Poor darling! no one can speak to the king. Though my uncle is
grand-master of his archers, I could not gain admission to Plessis. My
dear lady! my beautiful sovereign! oh, how she has suffered! Marie, let
yourself say but two words, or we are lost!"

"What will become of us?" she murmured. Then, seeing on the dark wall a
picture of the Virgin, on which the light from the lamp was falling, she
cried out:--

"Holy Mother of God, give us counsel!"

"To-night," said the young man, "I shall be with you in your room."

"How?" she asked naively.

They were in such great peril that their tenderest words were devoid of
love.

"This evening," he replied, "I shall offer myself as apprentice to
Maitre Cornelius, the ki