and of late we had gained something from the frank companionship
of Louis de Pavannes, a Huguenot whom the Vicomte had taken
prisoner at Moncontour and held to ransom. We were not, I
think, mere clownish yokels.

But we were shy. We disliked and shunned strangers. And when
old Gil appeared suddenly, while we were still chewing the
melancholy cud of Kit's announcement, and cried sepulchrally, "M.
le Vidame de Bezers to pay his respects to Mademoiselle!"--Well,
there was something like a panic, I confess!

We scrambled to our feet, muttering, "The Wolf!" The entrance at
Caylus is by a ramp rising from the gateway to the level of the
terrace. This sunken way is fenced by low walls so that one may
not--when walking on the terrace--fall into it. Gil had spoken
before his head had well risen to view, and this gave us a
moment, just a moment. Croisette made a rush for the doorway
into the house; but failed to gain it, and drew himself up behind
a buttress of the tower, his finger on his lip. I am slow
sometimes, and Marie waited for me, so that we had barely got to
our legs--looking, I dare say, awkward and ungainly enough--
before the Vidame's shadow fell darkly on the ground at
Catherine's feet.

"Mademoiselle!" he said, advancing to her through the sunshine,
and bending over her slender hand with a magnificent grace that
was born of his size and manner combined, "I rode in late last
night from Toulouse; and I go to-morrow to Paris. I have but
rested and washed off the stains of travel that I may lay my--
ah!"