"As becomes the cadets of your house," I repeated. And then
Catherine stood up and made me a low bow and we all kissed her
hand in turn, beginning with me and ending with Croisette, as was
becoming. Afterwards Catherine threw her handkerchief over her
face--she was crying--and we three sat down, Turkish fashion,
just where we were, and said "Oh, Kit!" very softly.

But presently Croisette had something to add. "What will the
Wolf say?" he whispered to me.

"Ah! To be sure!" I exclaimed aloud. I had been thinking of
myself before; but this opened quite another window. "What will
the Vidame say, Kit?"

She dropped her kerchief from her face, and turned so pale that I
was sorry I had spoken--apart from the kick Croisette gave me.
"Is M. de Bezers at his house?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes" Croisette answered. "He came in last night from St.
Antonin, with very small attendance."

The news seemed to set her fears at rest instead of augmenting
them as I should have expected. I suppose they were rather for
Louis de Pavannes, than for herself. Not unnaturally, too, for
even the Wolf could scarcely have found it in his heart to hurt
our cousin. Her slight willowy figure, her pale oval face and
gentle brown eyes, her pleasant voice, her kindness, seemed to us
boys and in those days, to sum up all that was womanly. We could
not remember, not even Croisette the youngest of us--who was
seventeen, a year junior to Marie and myself--we were twins--the