And to-night, in all these there was a something worse, a hundred times worse than when I saw him last--on Thursday! He seemed to--to gloat on me," the girl stammered, with a flush of shame, "as if I were his! Oh, Monsieur, I wish we had not left our Poitou! Shall we ever see Vrillac again, and the fishers' huts about the port, and the sea beating blue against the long brown causeway ?" He had listened darkly, almost sullenly; but at this, seeing the tears gather in her eyes, he forced a laugh.
"Why, you are as bad as M.de Rosny and the Vidame!" he said.

"And they are as full of fears as an egg is of meat! Since the Admiral was wounded by that scoundrel on Friday, they think all Paris is in a league against us." "And why not ?" she asked, her cheek grown pale, her eyes reading his eyes.
"Why not?
Why, because it is a monstrous thing even to think of!" Tignonville answered, with the confidence of one who did not use the argument for the first time.

"Could they insult the King more deeply than by such a suspicion?
A Borgia may kill his guests, but it was never a practice of the Kings of France! Pardieu, I have no patience with them! They may lodge where they please, across the river, or without the walls if they choose, the Rue de l'Arbre Sec is good enough for me, and the King's name sufficient surety!" "I know you are not apt to be fearful," she answered, smiling; and she looked at him with a woman's pride in her lover.

"All the same, you will not desert me again, sir, will you ?" He vowed he would not, kissed her hand, looked into her eyes; then melting to her, stammering, blundering, he named Madame St.Lo.

She stopped him.
"There is no need," she said, answering his look with kind eyes, and refusing to hear his protestations.