her beloved province, and the home by the Biscay Sea, to which even in
that brilliant scene her thoughts turned fondly. But the minutes had
passed, and passed, and he had not returned. Worse, in his place
Tavannes--not the Marshal, but his brother, Count Hannibal--had found
her; he, whose odious court, at once a menace and an insult, had subtly
enveloped her for a week past. He had sat down beside her, he had taken
possession of her, and, profiting by her inexperience, had played on her
fears and smiled at her dislike. Finally, whether she would or no, he
had swept her with him into the Chamber. The rest had been an obsession,
a nightmare, from which only the King's voice summoning Tavannes to his
side had relieved her.

Her aim now was to escape before he returned, and before another, seeing
her alone, adopted his _role_ and was rude to her. Already the courtiers
about her were beginning to stare, the pages to turn and titter and
whisper. Direct her gaze as she might, she met some eye watching her,
some couple enjoying her confusion. To make matters worse, she presently
discovered that she was the only woman in the Chamber; and she conceived
the notion that she had no right to be there at that hour. At the
thought her cheeks burned, her eyes dropped; the room seemed to buzz with
her name, with gross words and jests, and gibes at her expense.

At last, when the situation had grown nearly unbearable, the group before
the door parted, and Tignonville appeared. The girl rose with a cry of
relief, and he came to her. The courtiers glanced at the two and smiled.

He did not conceal his astonishment at finding her there. "But,
Mademoiselle, how is this?" he asked, in a low voice. He was as
conscious of the attention they attracted as she was, and as uncertain on
the point of her right to be there. "I left you in the gallery. I came