her gay ribbons.

"I want your mistress up in the great hall! Go summon her at once,"
repeated the Intendant.

The housekeeper courtesied, but pressed her lips together as if to
prevent them from speaking in remonstrance. She went at once on her
ungracious errand.

CHAPTER VIII. CAROLINE DE ST. CASTIN.

Dame Tremblay entered the suite of apartments and returned in a few
moments, saying that her lady was not there, but had gone down to the
secret chamber, to be, she supposed, more out of hearing of the noise,
which had disturbed her so much.

"I will go find her then," replied the Intendant; "you may return to
your own room, dame."

He walked across the drawing-room to one of the gorgeous panels that
decorated the wall, and touched a hidden spring. A door flew open,
disclosing a stair heavily carpeted that led down to the huge vaulted
foundations of the Chateau.

He descended the stair with hasty though unsteady steps. It led to a
spacious room, lighted with a gorgeous lamp that hung pendant in silver
chains from the frescoed ceiling. The walls were richly tapestried with
products of the looms of the Gobelins, representing the plains of
Italy filled with sunshine, where groves, temples, and colonnades were
pictured in endless vistas of beauty. The furniture of the chamber was
of regal magnificence. Nothing that luxury could desire, or art furnish,
had been spared in its adornment. On a sofa lay a guitar, and beside it
a scarf and a dainty glove fit for the hand of the fairy queen.

The Intendant looked eagerly round, as he entered this bright chamber of
his fancy, but saw not its expected occupant. A recess in the deep wall
at the farthest side of the room contained an oratory with an altar and
a crucifix upon it. The recess was partly in the shade. But the eyes
of the Intendant discerned clearly enough the kneeling, or rather the
prostrate, figure of Caroline de St. Castin. Her hands were clasped
beneath her head, which was bowed to the ground. Her long, black hair
lay dishevelled over her back, as she lay in her white robe like the
Angel of Sorrow, weeping and crying from the depths of her broken heart,
"Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world, have mercy upon
me!" She was so absorbed in her grief that she did not notice the
entrance of the Intendant.

Bigot stood still for a moment, stricken with awe at the spectacle of
this lovely woman weeping by herself in the secret chamber. A look of