"Wait until he bids you do something," she answered. "His manner, his
smile, his tone, all frighten me. 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