bending forward, said:
"I have news I should have given before that will interest you, madame-something you ought to know-of M. de Lorgnac."
"Is it really of importance?"
"I think so. It will remain for you to decide."
"Then what is it, monsieur?"
"I cannot well tell you here. We will let them go onward, and ride slowly behind."
I agreed silently, and we soon found ourselves at a little distance from the party. We were descending the wooded valley of the Briance, and a turn in the forest road left us alone. Then de Clermont, who had up to now remained silent, began abruptly:
"Madame, it has been given to me to find out the business on which M. de Lorgnac is engaged, and over which you have been sacrificed. You are a brave woman-the bravest I have ever met-and I know you will bear with the bluntness of my speech, for this is no time to beat about the bush."
"Monsieur, it does not concern me on what business M. de Lorgnac is engaged. I only ask and pray God to give me some refuge where I may never see him again."
"Hear me a moment. I think it does concern you, and vitally too."
"Then what is it?"
"Now call to mind your race, and all that can give you strength. Denise de Mieux, your husband is nothing more than an assassin. He has been hired by the King and that she-devil the Queen Mother to murder Navarre. It is a political necessity for them, and they have found an instrument in Blaise de Lorgnac base enough for their purpose. His price was high, though-it was you, Denise, and de Tavannes, who is in the secret, has paid it. How he came to persuade himself to do so, I know not. He is your uncle, and I will not say anything against him."
I felt as if I had received a blow. There was truth in every line of de Clermont's face, in every tone of his voice; but I struggled against it, and said faintly:
"This does not concern me-I am but a wife in name. I shall never see de Lorgnac. He is dead to me."
"Would to God he were dead indeed!" he burst out. "But there is more. Catherine is tyrant to her finger nails. She has heard that you have refused to remain with your husband, and at his request an order has been sent to de Termes to deliver you up to him at Périgueux. Norreys has taken that order, and it has already reached him. If you doubt me here is the duplicate. You may read it for yourself."
He placed a letter in my hands. I knew the seal well. The red shield with the palle of the Medici-Catherine's private signet. But I could not read it. My mind became a chaos. "Oh! what shall I do? What shall I do?" I exclaimed aloud in my despair.
"Denise!" he said, "there is one way of escape and only one, for de Lorgnac has already made his claim at Périgueux, and you go straight into the lion's jaws."
"What is it? Tell me."
He laid his hand on my rein. "Denise-put your trust in me and come. My dear, I love you-I love you. This marriage is an infamy. Vows such as they made you swear are not binding. Come with me, my dear, and under the banner of the Emperor, with you by my side to help me, I will work out a new life, and the name of Clermont-Ferrand is already known. Denise! Last night I saw the love-light in your eyes. Let it burn there again for me. Come."
He made as if to turn my horse's head, and it was only with an effort that I restrained him. God knows I was sorry for the man. I know, too, that it was in my heart to take the great love I thought he was giving me, and, forgetting everything, to follow him to the world's end. In the few seconds that passed, I went through a frightful struggle, and then the strength of last night came back to me.
"De Clermont! It is impossible; and now go-go. If you say you love me, go in pity!"
"Denise, you know not what you say! Think, dear! In two hours we will be safe. In two hours the world itself could not part us. I will not let you sacrifice yourself. You love me, dear, and you know it, and when love like ours exists there is no right and no wrong-only our love."
"It cannot be-it cannot be. De Clermont, you are tempting the woman you say you love, to dishonour. Let me tell you plainly, I do not love you. For one moment I thought I did; but I am sure of myself now; and even did I love you, as I feel sure you deserve to be loved, I would never consent to-to what you propose."
"Mordieu!" he exclaimed hoarsely, "you are not yourself. Come, Denise. I hear Lalande riding back, and in a moment it will be too late."
"Let go my reins, monsieur, else I shall call out. I hear Lalande, too. Go, monsieur, whilst I can still think of you as I always have. Go and forget me."
His hand dropped to his side, and taking the occasion I struck my horse smartly with the whip and he sprang forward. De Clermont made no attempt to follow, but at the bend of the road, as I glanced across my shoulder, I saw him turn his horse's head and plunge into the forest, and a moment later I met Lalande.
I could only realize that I had escaped a great danger; beyond that my mind could not go; but I was conscious that, despite the terrible earnestness of his words, there was something that was not convincing in de Clermont. The narrow escape that I had drove all other things out of my mind, and it was only when I came in sight of our party again that I recollected de Clermont's warning that by going to Périgueux I was going straight into the lion's mouth, and an absolute despair fell upon me.
When I rode up to Madame's side she glanced at me narrowly and asked for de Clermont.
I answered truly enough that I did not know, and she looked at me again with her clear, searching eyes. "It is odd, Denise, but do you know that his lackeys have gone, too? They left us an hour ago-and now it seems he has gone, too, without a word of good-bye."
"Monsieur made too sure of the success of his plans," I said bitterly, and Madame's answer was sharp and swift:
"Denise, there is something wrong-what is it?"
And as we rode close together, side by side, I told her every word, hiding nothing. My voice sounded hard and dry to my own ears, my eyes were burning, and when I had finished, she said, "Denise, I cannot believe M. de Clermont's story. I feel it is untrue. Even if it were true de Termes would never carry out the order about you. He is incapable of such baseness."
"There is always one way of escape, madame, and I am my father's daughter."
"And there is a God above, girl. Your father's daughter should never talk like that."
"Then why does He not hear my prayers?" I said, in impious forgetfulness. "Is heaven so far that our voices cannot reach there?"
And my dear old friend sighed deeply in answer.
We were to halt at Chalusset for the night, and here confirmation was received of the truth of de Clermont's story, for an equerry of the Vicomte's met us here with a letter to his wife in his own hand, in which he said that our message, the one we had sent from the Gartempe, had reached him, and that he was hastening forward himself to meet us. Then he went on to other matters, and his letter concluded with a postscript:
"M. Norreys is here with an order from the King, or, rather, from the Queen Mother. It is very unfortunate, but must be obeyed."
She first read the letter herself-we were sitting together in her apartment, in the one inn at Chalusset-and then she handed it to me with a request to read it aloud to her. I did so; but on coming to the postscript my voice faltered in spite of myself, and then she
