desperate men, she did not seem out of place. I could fancy--I
did not find it impossible to fancy--that under her queenly
exterior, and behind the contemptuous laugh with which she heard
the landlord's story, there lurked a woman's soul, a soul capable
of folly and tenderness. But no outward sign betrayed its
presence--as I saw her then.

I scanned her very carefully; and secretly, if the truth be told,
I was glad to find that Madame de Cocheforet was such a woman. I
was glad that she had laughed as she had--with a ring of disdain
and defiance; glad that she was not a little, tender, child-like
woman, to be crushed by the first pinch of trouble. For if I
succeeded in my task, if I contrived to--but, pish! Women, I
told myself, were all alike. She would find consolation quickly
enough.

I watched until the group broke up, and Madame, with one of the
men, went her way round the corner of the inn, and out of my
sight. Then I retired to bed again, feeling more than ever
perplexed what course I should adopt. It was clear that to
succeed I must obtain admission to the house, which was
garrisoned, according to my instructions, by two or three old
men-servants only, and as many women; since Madame, to disguise
her husband's visits the more easily, lived, and gave out that
she lived, in great retirement. To seize her husband at home,
therefore, might be no impossible task; though here, in the heart
of the village, a troop of horse might make the attempt, and
fail.

But how was I to gain admission to the house--a house guarded by