d the dark lady.

"I have been accounted many unsavoury things, Madame, but my bitterest
enemies never dubbed me that."

"Why, then, did you run away?"

"Why? Ma foi! because in the excessive humility of my soul I recognised
myself unfit to die."

She bit her lip and her tiny foot beat impatiently upon the floor.

"You are trifling with me, Monsieur. Where do you wish to alight?"

"Pray let that give you no concern; I can assure you that I am in no
haste."

"You become impertinent, sir," she cried angrily. "Answer me, where are
you going?"

"Where am I going? Oh, ah--to the Palais Royal."

Her eyes opened very wide at that, and wandered over me with a look that
was passing eloquent. Indeed, I was a sorry spectacle for any woman's
eyes--particularly a pretty one's. Splashed from head to foot with mud,
my doublet saturated and my beaver dripping, with the feather hanging
limp and broken, whilst there was a rent in my breeches that had
been made by Canaples's sword, I take it that I had not the air of a
courtier, and that when I said that I went to the Palais Royal she might
have justly held me to be the adventurous lover of some kitchen wench.
But unto the Palais Royal go others besides courtiers and lovers--spies
of the Cardinal, for instance, and in her sudden coldness and the next
question that fell from her beauteous lips I read that she had guessed
me one of these.

"Why did the mob pursue you, Monsieur?"

There was in her voice and gesture when she asked a question the
imperiousness of one accustomed to command replies. This pretty
queenliness it was that drove me to answer--as I had done before--in a
bantering strain.

"Why did the mob pursue me? Hum! Why does the mob pursue great men?
Because it loves their company."

Her matchless eyes flashed an angry glance, and the faint smile on my
lips must have tried her temper sorely.

"What did you do to deserve this affection?"

"A mere nothing--I killed a man," I answered coolly. "Or, at least, I
left him started on the road to--Paradise."

The little flaxen-haired doll uttered a cry of horror, and covered her
face with her small white hands. My inquisitor, however, sat rigid and
unaffected. My answer had confirmed her suspicions.

"Why did you kill him?"

"Ma foi!" I replied, encouraging her thoughts, "because he sought to
kill me."

"Ah! And why did he seek to kill you?"

"Because I disturbed him at dinner."

"Have a care how you trifle, s