. This much will I do for you in the matter; indeed, Andrea, it is
the last service I am like to render you."

"Sh! Here comes the Chevalier. She shall be told to-day."

CHAPTER XVI. THE WAY OF WOMAN

For all that I realised that this love of mine for Yvonne was as a child
still-born--a thing that had no existence save in the heart that had
begotten it--I rejoiced meanly at the thought that she was not destined
to become Andrea's wife. For since I understood that this woman--who to
me was like no other of her sex--was not for so poor a thing as Gaston
de Luynes, like the dog in the fable I wished that no other might
possess her. Inevitable it seemed that sooner or later one must come who
would woo and win her. But ere that befell, my Lord Cardinal would have
meted out justice to me--the justice of the rope meseemed--and I should
not be by to gnash my teeth in jealousy.

That evening, when the Chevalier de Canaples had gone to pay a visit to
his vineyard,--the thing that, next to himself, he loved most in this
world,--and whilst Genevieve and Andrea were vowing a deathless love to
each other in the rose garden, their favourite haunt when the Chevalier
was absent, I seized the opportunity for making my adieux to Yvonne.

We were leaning together upon the balustrade of the terrace, and our
faces were turned towards the river and the wooded shores beyond--a
landscape this that was as alive and beautiful now as it had been dead
and grey when first I came to Canaples two months ago.

Scarce were my first words spoken when she turned towards me, and
methought--but I was mad, I told myself--that there was a catch in her
voice as she exclaimed, "You are leaving us, Monsieur?"

"To-morrow morning I shall crave Monsieur your father's permission to
quit Canaples."

"But why, Monsieur? Have we not made you happy here?"

"So happy, Mademoiselle," I answered with fervour, "that at times it
passes my belief that I am indeed Gaston de Luynes. But go I must. My
honour demands of me this sacrifice."

And in answer to the look of astonishment that filled her wondrous eyes,
I told her what I had told Andrea touching my parole to Montresor, and
the necessity of its redemption. As Andrea had done, she also dubbed it
madness, but her glance was, nevertheless, so full of admiration, that
methought to have earned it was worth the immolation of liberty--of life
perchance; who could say?

"Before I go, Mademoiselle," I pursued,