s and cheeks that
flushed and paled. Glad she was that he had so loved her; sad that it
could make no difference. Indeed, young Pierre served his master well
in that hour, and earned whatsoever reward, however great it might be,
he should receive from him in the future.

How strangely selfish even in its loves is humanity! Although Marteau
was intensely fond of the lad, and deeply devoted to him, absorbed in
his overwhelming affection for the woman he had forgot the boy until
too late to send for him that day. Well, he would remedy that omission
on the morrow, he thought, as he abandoned himself once more to dreams
of other days, to fruitless anticipations, to vain hopes of what might
have been.

To him suddenly came St. Laurent. The young aide knew but vaguely of
the scene in the Countess's bed-chamber and, therefore, there was no
prejudice in his mind against the officer. Although he was a loyalist
to the core, he could sympathize as a soldier with the other's point of
view. His address toward him, therefore, was respectful, and even
indicated some of that sympathy.

"Monsieur," he began most courteously, "I am sent by the Governor to
conduct you elsewhere."

"Shall I need my hat and cloak, monsieur?" asked the other, quite
appreciative of the young man's treatment of him.

"You will," was the answer.

"Am I leaving this room permanently?"

"You will return to it in half an hour."

"And whither----"

"You will pardon me," was the firm reply, "I have orders to conduct
you, not to answer questions."

"Your reproof," admitted Marteau, smiling faintly, "is well deserved.
I attend you at once, sir."

Escorted by St. Laurent and two soldiers, he left the building, walked
across the barrack yard, attracting instant attention from the soldiers
off duty congregated there, and a few officers of the garrison who
chanced to be passing. All of them saluted him with the utmost
deference and the most profound respect. He punctiliously acknowledged
their salutes with a melancholy grace and dignity. There was an air of
great excitement everywhere, and he wondered vaguely what could be the
cause of it.

To his further wonderment also he found his steps directed to the
Governor's palace. Entering, he was ushered through the halls and
marched to the door of a room which he remembered was one of the
smaller waiting-rooms of the palace. St. Laurent stopped before the
door, his hand upon the knob.

"Monsieur,"