The little man shook his head dubiously. "But, as a point of honour, I
really think--"

D'Avranche laughed. "As a point of honour, I think you ought to
breakfast. A la bonne heure, monsieur le chevalier!"

He turned again to the cottage window. The girl was still there. The
darkness over the sun was withdrawn, and now the clear light began to
spread itself abroad. It was like a second dawn after a painful night.
It tinged the face of the girl; it burnished the wonderful red-brown hair
falling loosely and lightly over her forehead; it gave her beauty a touch
of luxuriance. D'Avranche thrilled at the sight of her.

"It's a beautiful face," he said to himself as their eyes met and he
saluted once more.

Ranulph had seen the glances passing between the two, and he winced.
He remembered how, eleven years ago, Philip d'Avranche had saved the girl
from death. It galled him that then and now this young gallant
should step in and take the game out of his hands--he was sure that
himself alone could have mastered this crowd.

"Monsieur--monsieur le chevalier!" the girl called down from the window,
"grandpethe says you must breakfast with us. Oh, but come you must, or
we shall be offended!" she added, as Champsavoys shook his head in
hesitation and glanced towards the prison.

"As a point of honour--" the little man still persisted, lightly touching
his breast with the Louis Quinze cane, and taking a step towards the
sombre prison archway. But Ranulph interfered, drew him gently inside