it," replied the dame with promptness, "I
will swear it until I am black in the face if you command me, your
Excellency! Poor, dear lady! may I not ask where she is going?"

"No, she will be all right! I will tell you in due time. It is needful
for people to change sometimes, you know, dame! You comprehend that! You
had to manage matters discreetly when you were the Charming Josephine. I
dare say you had to change, too, sometimes! Every woman has an intrigue
once, at least, in her lifetime, and wants a change. But this lady is
not clever like the Charming Josephine, therefore we have to be clever
for her!"

The dame laughed prudently yet knowingly at this, while Bigot
continued, "Now you understand all! Go to her chamber, dame. Present our
compliments with our regrets for disturbing her at this hour. Tell her
that the Intendant and the Sieur Cadet desire to see her on important
business."

Dame Tremblay, with a broad smile all over her countenance at her
master's jocular allusions to the Charming Josephine, left at once to
carry her message to the chamber of Caroline.

She passed out, while the two gentlemen waited in the gallery, Bigot
anxious but not doubtful of his influence to persuade the gentle girl to
leave the Chateau, Cadet coolly resolved that she must go, whether she
liked it or no. He would banish every woman in New France to the tuque
of the St. Maurice had he the power, in order to rid himself and Bigot
of the eternal mischief and trouble of them!

Neither Bigot nor Cadet spoke for some minutes after the departure of
the dame. They listened to her footsteps as the sound of them died away
in the distant rooms, where one door opened after another as she passed
on to the secret chamber.

"She is now at the door of Caroline!" thought Bigot, as his imagination
followed Dame Tremblay on her errand. "She is now speaking to her. I
know Caroline will make no delay to admit us." Cadet on his side was
very quiet and careless of aught save to take the girl and get her
safely away before daybreak.

A few moments of heavy silence and expectation passed over them. The
howl of a distant watch-dog was heard, and all was again still. The low,
monotonous ticking of the great clock at the head of the gallery
made the silence still more oppressive. It seemed to be measuring off
eternity, not time.

The hour, the circumstance, the brooding stillness, waited for a cry of
murder to ring through the Chateau, waking its s