"
I wrapped a dressing-gown about me, for the morning air was chill.
"Monsieur le Vicomte," said I gravely, "I heartily deplore that
Monsieur de Marsac's affairs should have detained me here. But for
him, I had left Lavedan two days ago. As it is, I tremble for you,
but we may at least hope that my being taken in your house will draw
down no ill results upon you. I shall never forgive myself if
through my having taken refuge here I should have encompassed your
destruction."
"There is no question of that," he replied, with the quick generosity
characteristic of the man. "This is the work of Saint-Eustache.
Sooner or later I always feared that it would happen, for sooner or
later he and I must have come to enmity over my daughter. That
knave had me in his power. He knew - being himself outwardly one of
us - to what extent I was involved in the late rebellion, and I knew
enough of him to be assured that if some day he should wish to do me
ill, he would never scruple to turn traitor. I am afraid, Monsieur
de Lesperon, that it is not for you alone - perhaps not for you at
all - that the soldiers have come, but for me."
Then, before I could answer him, the door was flung wide, and into
the room, in nightcap and hastily donned robe - looking a very
megere in that disfiguring deshabille - swept the Vicomtesse.
"See," she cried to her husband, her strident voice raised in
reproach - "see to what a pass you have brought us!"
"Anne, Anne!" he exclaimed, approaching her and seeking to soothe
her; "be calm, my poor child, and be brave.
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