He coloured warmly. "You are unjust, Mademoiselle," he said. "There are
things you forget; in a Court one is not always master of one's self."

"I know it," she answered dryly, thinking of that through which she had
gone.

"But you do not know what happened!" he returned with impatience. "You
do not understand that I am not to blame. Madame d'Yverne, when I
reached the Princess Dowager's closet, had left to go to the Queen of
Navarre. I hurried after her, and found a score of gentlemen in the King
of Navarre's chamber. They were holding a council, and they begged, nay,
they compelled me to remain."

"And it was that which detained you so long?"

"To be sure, Mademoiselle."

"And not--Madame St. Lo?"

M. de Tignonville's face turned scarlet. The thrust in tierce was
unexpected. This, then, was the key to Mademoiselle's spirt of temper.

"I do not understand you," he stammered.

"How long were you in the King of Navarre's chamber, and how long with
Madame St. Lo?" she asked with fine irony. "Or no, I will not tempt
you," she went on quickly, seeing him hesitate. "I heard you talking to
Madame St. Lo in the gallery while I sat within. And I know how long you
were with her."