"Until I ask you to come back."

These were my own words to de Lorgnac, and they rang in my ears as I listened to his footsteps dying away along the passage. Would I ever call him back? It was on my tongue to do so as he went; but I held myself in, and began restlessly to pace the room, the dog watching my movements with his grave eyes. I could not bear to have them fixed upon me--those eyes that seemed to have a soul imprisoned behind them, and that were so like, in their honest glance, to those of my husband. I bent down and stroked the great shaggy head.

"If I but knew myself! If I but knew myself!" I called out aloud, and then moved aimlessly towards the window. Here I looked out, but saw nothing of the view, for I was looking into my own heart, and there all was mist and fog. The more I tried to think the more hopeless it all seemed, and it came to me to abandon my position, and, accepting my fate, make the best of circumstances as other women had done. I could give respect and trust; and as long as my husband knew this, and I looked after his comforts, he would never know that I did not love him. I had seen enough of the world to know how selfishly blind men are in this respect. But de Lorgnac was not as other men. I felt that his keen eye would take in the part I was playing, that his great love for me would penetrate and grasp all my devices, and that he would feel that he had only a wife--not a lover as well. What was this love that I was in doubt about? If it meant absolute sacrifice of myself, then I could give it to no man. If it meant respect, and honour, and a desire for a constant guiding presence about me, then I felt I could give that to Blaise de Lorgnac; but I felt, too, that more was due to him, and it was well to wait--to wait until my heart told me undeniably that I had found its king.

The neigh of a horse, and the clatter of hoofs on stony ground, aroused me. Bending forward over the window, I looked out and saw de Lorgnac and a half dozen mounted men riding out of the courtyard. My husband rode a little in advance, square and erect, his plumeless helmet glittering in the sunlight; but he never gave one backward glance to the window. Even if he thought I was not there, he might have done so; he might have given me the chance. The men who rode behind him seemed stout, strong fellows, though their casques were battered and their cuirasses rusty; and as the last of them went out I recognised la Coquille. I know I had no right to pick and choose for de Lorgnac, but I would have given my right hand not to have seen that swashbuckler riding behind my husband. Such men as he were never employed on honest deeds! With a stamp of my foot I turned from the window and saw Pierre, the old servant, waiting patiently near the door, with a huge bunch of keys on a salver in his hand. As our eyes met he bowed to the ground.

"I did not know it was Madame de Lorgnac who was here until an hour ago," he said. "Monsieur le Chevalier has directed that these should be given over to you, and the household is outside awaiting madame's orders."

Half amused, half embarrassed, I took the keys. I felt sure de Lorgnac had given no such order, but that this was the spontaneous outcome of old Pierre's politeness. Fastening them in my girdle, I said, with as gracious, yet dignified an air as I could assume, "Call in the people, please."

Pierre bowed once more to the ground and vanished to reappear in two minutes with a well-grown youth, and the two stood bolt upright before me. This was the household of de Lorgnac, then. The smile died away from my lips as I thought of the straits to which a gallant gentleman was reduced. "Pierre," I said, "you must add Mousette, my maid, to the household, and see that the good Lalande is well treated," and I placed a small purse containing a half dozen or so of gold crowns that I happened to have with me in the old man's hands. He held the little silken bag for a moment, and then his face began to flush.

"There is no need, madame; we have enough."

"You forget, Pierre, what I am giving you is Monsieur le Chevalier's, to whom God grant a safe return."

He took the money, though I saw a suspicious swimming of his eyes, and I hastily asked:

"And do those men who rode out with Monsieur belong to the household, too, Pierre?"

"St. Blaise--no, madame! They came here but yesterday morning, and with their leader have drunk and sworn about the place ever since. They filled the lower hall with disorder; but they are stout fellows, and we had hardly been able to help you so well last night but for them; they follow Monsieur le Chevalier for a little time only."

I well knew for what purpose, but kept silent on that point, saying, "And how far is Lorgnac from here?"

"The town you mean, madame?"

"Precisely."

"At the foot of the hill to the right of the chÂteau; we cannot see it from here. Ah! it was a fine place until Monsieur de Ganache, and his bandits of Huguenots, came over from La Roche Canillac one fine day and put the place to fire and sword. Monsieur le Chevalier has vowed his death at the shrine of Our Lady of Lorgnac. Ah! he is a devil, is Monsieur de Ganache; he is with the Bearnnois now."

"And is there any news of the Huguenots moving now?"

"None, madame; but Antoine the peddler of Argentat says that a great lady from Paris is at the ChÂteau de Canillac, and that Monsieur de Turenne, and many a high lord from the south have been visiting her. They will be tired of dancing and singing soon, those hot bloods, and we may have to look to the castle walls."

"This evening, then, you must take me to Lorgnac," I said with a view to end the conversation.

"It is madame's order, but----" and he stopped short for a second, and then continued, "Antoine, the peddler's daughter, who married Gribot, the woodman of Lorgnac, has a cow and calf for sale, and there is none in the chÂteau."

"Then buy it of her, Pierre," and with another low bow the old man withdrew with the "household," who had evidently been trained in a severe school by Pierre, for he had stood bolt upright like a soldier at attention, and never moved muscle during the whole of the interview.

So my business as mistress of Lorgnac had begun; but there were one or two things that required immediate attention from me before I began my household duties. I called Mousette, and going over the money we had, found that it reached to about a hundred crowns. This was enough for all present requirements, though I would want much more soon, if all the designs that were flitting through my brain, in shadow as it were, were carried out; but that could be easily arranged hereafter. Then I saw Lalande, and informing him that my journey was over, asked if there would be any difficulty in his remaining at Lorgnac for at least a few days, as I wanted his help. He answered that he was at my service, and this being settled, I set about exploring the quaint old mansion, and as I did so all kinds of dreams of changing its cheerless aspect possessed me, and the time passed on wings.

In the afternoon we visited the town. Alas! It had been for a century but a hamlet, and all traces of town, if ever there was any, had long gone. But small and poor and obscure as Lorgnac was, the hand of war had not spared it, and blackened rafter and fallen roof still bore witness to Monsieur de Ganache's pitiless visit. Privation and want had left their marks on the faces of the score or so of inhabitants of the village; but when they found out who I was, they came forward eagerly, and a small child, no doubt prompted by her elders, gave me a bouquet of wild flowers, and I went back, vowing in my heart that ere many weeks were over all this would be changed.

That night as I sat before the huge log fire in the hall with Moro the hound--I found out his name from Pierre--for the first time for many days my mind was at rest, and I began to feel also, for the first time, the glow that comes to the heart when one is able to help one's fellow creatures. I knew I was young and inexperienced, that my life, especially within the last year in the poisonous air of the Court, had been made up of frivolities and follies that had brought their own sharp punishment with them, yet I had always in my mind the desire for a nobler life, where my wealth could be used to help the distressed, and as far as it could go to add to the happiness of others. So far so good; but there was my own happiness and that of de Lorgnac to think of. There was a great pity in my heart for him; but was it right to mistake pity for love, and give myself wholly to a man to make him happy, to my own sorrow? For the life of me I could not see this. I felt that a man who would accept such a sacrifice would be unworthy of it. But Blaise de Lorgnac was not of those who would do this. He was true metal. Was there another man who would have acted as he did--whose love was so generous and yet so strong? I doubt it. I well knew the profession of a man's love, that swore it was ready to die for its object; but was unable to abandon or to forego anything in its selfishness. But the love that was, as it were, in the hollow of my hand was not as this; and then I began to see the hidden secret of my own heart, and called out aloud, "Come back, de Lorgnac. Come back!" But the echo of the vaulted roof was my only answer. Yet that night I slept a happy woman, for I knew what it was now to love.

The days passed, and notwithstanding that I threw myself heart and soul into my plans about Lorgnac, there was an ever-eating care in my heart, for no tidings came of my husband, and it was not pride now, but a shyness that I could not overcome, do what I would, that absolutely prevented me from making any inquiry, though no doubt inquiry would have been fruitless and vain. Listless and tired, I sat one day towards the afternoon at the window by the hall, my favourite seat, and looked down the winding road, that clung to the side of the steep rocks, hoping against hope that I should see the great white horse, when suddenly I spied a horseman riding towards the castle with a loose rein, and at times he swayed from side to side like a drunken man. In a moment I felt the worst tidings, and knew that the rider was bringing me sorrow. With an effort I roused myself, and with shaking limbs went down to the courtyard, and there, calling Lalande and Pierre, waited for his coming, who was bringing me the evil message I felt I already knew. We had not long to wait. With a thunder of hoofs, the horseman passed the lower drawbridge, and reining in sharply, slid rather than dismounted from his saddle. It was la Coquille, covered with blood and dust, and the red gone out of his cheeks.

"Madame--Madame de Lorgnac!" he called out in a cracked voice.

"I am here, monsieur."

"I can stay but a moment. Fly! Fly! The bloodhounds are even now on my track, and they will be here in an hour."

"Is that all?" How my heart beat, though my voice was cool!

"All? No. But give me to drink, and I will speak. My throat is parched and I have lost much blood."

Pierre handed him a flagon of wine, which he drained at a draught, and then went on.

"It will not take long to tell. Mordieu! It was the best plan ever laid, and to think it was spoiled by a traitor. Madame, if we had succeeded, France would have been at peace, and your husband a marshal and peer. We watched the Bearnnois for days, and then laid out to seize him, on the day of a hunting party. We got all details of movements from that double-dyed traitor, de Clermont; but he played the right hand for Navarre, and the left for us. We laid out as I said, and the King came: but not alone--our ambuscade was surprised, and five as good fellows as ever drew sword now swing to the branches of the beech trees of Canillac. I got off somehow, but alas! they have taken de Lorgnac, though not easily, for Monsieur de Ganache fell to his sword, and I think another too."

"Taken de Lorgnac!"

"Yes, madame--Mordieu! It is the fortune of war! They are coming straight here, for what purpose I know not; but, mille diables! I have wasted enough time already, and the skin of la Coquille is the skin of la Coquille. There is not a moment to spare. Fly if you value your lives!" And with this he put his foot in his stirrup, and made as if he would mount his panting horse again.

"Save your skin, Monsieur la Coquille," I said. "As for me and mine, we stay here. Would to God my husband had true swords at his back!"

He stopped and put down his foot.

"You can say what you please, madame, but we did our best; but as God is my witness the Huguenots mean death, and I advise you to go. In a half-hour it will be too late."

"Monsieur, I have asked you to save the skin of la Coquille."

His broad face became dark and red with the blood that rushed to it. "I know I deserve nothing at your hands, madame," he said. "You think me a cur, and one I am. Mordieu! For a bribe of twenty crowns--so fallen am I--I once played the craven for de Clermont before you. It was at Ambazac not so many days ago. Did I know you were de Lorgnac's wife, I had cut off my sword arm rather than do what I did then. Let me make some recompense. I implore you to go. Fools," and he turned to Lalande and Pierre, "do you wish to swing from the rafters here? Take her away, by force if necessary."

"Enough, monsieur. You have said too much! I am sorry for you. I would help you if I could, but my place is here. Save yourself whilst there is yet time. As for me, I and mine will defend Lorgnac to the last stone."

He flung the reins he held in his hand from him, and over the sin-marked features of the man there came somehow an expression of nobleness.

"Then, by God, madame, I stay! And I thank you for teaching me how to die. Twenty-five years--twenty-five years ago I was a gentleman, and to-day I bridge over the past. I will stay, madame, and the sword of la Coquille will help to hold the castle for you. Hasten, men. Up with the drawbridge. Ah! sacre nom d'un chien! We are too late!"