Have I not said that this Bardelys was become a coward? Then my
cowardice suggested a course to me - flight. I would leave Lavedan.
I would return to Paris and to Chatellerault, owning defeat and
paying my wager. It was the only course open to me. My honour, so
tardily aroused, demanded no less. Yet, not so much because of that
as because it was suddenly revealed to me as the easier course, did
I determine to pursue it. What thereafter might become of me I did
not know, nor in that hour of my heart's agony did it seem to matter
overmuch.

"There is much, mademoiselle, much, indeed, to hold me firmly at
Lavedan," I pursued at last. "But my - my obligations demand of me
that I depart."

"You mean the Cause," she cried. "But, believe me, you can do
nothing. To sacrifice yourself cannot profit it. Infinitely better
you can serve the Duke by waiting until the time is ripe for another
blow. And how can you better preserve your life than by remaining
at Lavedan until the persecutions are at an end?"

"I was not thinking of the Cause, mademoiselle, but of myself alone
--of my own personal honour. I would that I could explain; but I am
afraid," I ended lamely.

"Afraid?" she echoed, now raising her eyes in wonder.

"Aye, afraid. Afraid of your contempt, of your scorn."

The wonder in her glance increased and asked a question that I could
not answer. I stretched forward, and caught one of the hands lying