it to her to hand to Mademoiselle.

I ground my teeth together, while Marie, unbidden, left the room
to seek Francis--and a stirrup leather. The Vidame had brought
the note in his pocket no doubt, rightly expecting that he would
not get an audience of my cousin. Returning to the gate alone he
had seen his opportunity, and given the note to Francis, probably
with a small fee to secure its transmission.

Croisette and I looked at one another, apprehending all this.
"He will sleep at Cahors to-night," I said sullenly.

The lad shook his head and answered in a low voice, "I am afraid
not. His horses are fresh. I think he will push on. He always
travels quickly. And now you know--"

I nodded, understanding only too well.

Catherine had flung herself into a chair. Her arms lay nerveless
on the table. Her face was hidden in them. But now, overhearing
us, or stung by some fresh thought, she sprang to her feet in
anguish. Her face twitched, her form seemed to stiffen as she
drew herself up like one in physical pain. "Oh, I cannot bear
it!" she cried to us in dreadful tones. "Oh, will no one do
anything? I will go to him! I will tell him I will give him up!
I will do whatever he wishes if he will only spare him!"

Croisette went from the room crying. It was a dreadful sight for
us--this girl in agony. And it was impossible to reassure her!
Not one of us doubted the horrible meaning of the note, its