Catherine's eyes were on the northern extremity of the defile,
where the highway from Cahors descends from the uplands. She had
been sitting with her face turned that way all the afternoon.

I looked that way too. A solitary horseman was descending the
steep track from the hills.

"Mademoiselle!" cried the Vidame suddenly. We all looked up.
His tone was such that the colour fled from Kit's face. There
was something in his voice she had never heard in any voice
before--something that to a woman was like a blow.
"Mademoiselle," he snarled, "is expecting news from Cahors, from
her lover. I have the honour to congratulate M. de Pavannes on
his conquest."

Ah! he had guessed it! As the words fell on the sleepy silence,
an insult in themselves, I sprang to my feet, amazed and angry,
yet astounded by his quickness of sight and wit. He must have
recognized the Pavannes badge at that distance. "M. le Vidame,"
I said indignantly--Catherine was white and voiceless--"M. le
Vidame--" but there I stopped and faltered stammering. For
behind him I could see Croisette; and Croisette gave me no sign
of encouragement or support.

So we stood face to face for a moment; the boy and the man of the
world, the stripling and the ROUE. Then the Vidame bowed to me
in quite a new fashion. "M. Anne de Caylus desires to answer for
M. de Pavannes?" he asked smoothly; with a mocking smoothness.

I understood what he meant. But something prompted me--Croisette