sister's arm, and casting a disdainful glance at Bezers, "let us
go. I want to be with my husband. I am stifled in this room."

"We are going, little one," Diane murmured reassuringly. But I
noticed that the speaker's animation, which had been as a soul to
her beauty when she entered the room, was gone. A strange
stillness was it fear of the Vidame? had taken its place.

"The Abbess of the Ursulines?" Bezers continued thoughtfully.
"SHE brought you here, did she?" There was surprise, genuine
surprise, in his voice. "A good soul, and, I think I have heard,
a friend of yours. Umph!"

"A very dear friend," Madame answered stiffly. "Now, Diane!"

"A dear friend! And she spirited you hither yesterday!"
commented the Vidame, with the air of one solving an anagram.
"And Mirepoix detained you; respectable Mirepoix, who is said to
have a well-filled stocking under his pallet, and stands well
with the bourgeoisie. He is in the plot. Then at a very late
hour, your affectionate sister, and my good friend the Coadjutor,
enter to save you. From what?"

No one spoke. The priest looked down, his cheeks livid with
anger.

"From what?" Bezers continued with grim playfulness. "There is
the mystery. From the clutches of this profligate Mirepoix, I
suppose. From the dangerous Mirepoix. Upon my honour," with a
sudden ring of resolution in his tone, "I think you are safer