storm:--

"All the devils are abroad, jarnidieu! I'd have been surprised to see
this one stay quietly in his bed. We took Saint-Lo in just such a
tempest as this."

The count kept in his room a disguise which often served him in his
campaign stratagems. Putting on the shabby buff-coat that looked as
thought it might belong to one of the poor horse-soldiers whose
pittance was so seldom paid by Henri IV., he returned to the room
where his wife was moaning.

"Try to suffer patiently," he said to her. "I will founder my horse if
necessary to bring you speedy relief."

These words were certainly not alarming, and the countess, emboldened
by them, was about to make a request when the count asked her
suddenly:--

"Tell me where you keep your masks?"

"My masks!" she replied. "Good God! what do you want to do with them?"

"Where are they?" he repeated, with his usual violence.

"In the chest," she said.

She shuddered when she saw her husband select from among her masks a
"touret de nez," the wearing of which was as common among the ladies
of that time as the wearing of gloves in our day. The count became