Saint Martins Summer | Page 8

of danger. He felt himself the meanest, vilest
thing a-crawl upon this sinful earth, and she - dear God! - had thought
him different from the ruck. She had held him in high esteem, and
behold, how short had he not fallen of all her expectations! Shame and
vanity combined to work a sudden, sharp revulsion in his feelings.
"Marquise," he cried, "you say no more than what is just. But punish
me no further. I meant not what I said. I was beside myself. Let me
atone - let my future actions make amends for that odious departure
from my true self."
There was no scorn now in her smile; only an ineffable tenderness,
beholding which he felt it in his heart to hang if need be that he might
continue high in her regard. He sprang forward, and took the hand she
extended to him.
"I knew, Tressan," said she, "that you were not yourself, and that when
you bethought you of what you had said, my valiant, faithful friend
would not desert me."
He stooped over her hand, and slobbered kisses upon her unresponsive
glove.
"Madame," said he, "you may count upon me. This fellow out of Paris
shall have no men from me, depend upon it."
She caught him by the shoulders, and held him so, before her. Her face
was radiant, alluring; and her eyes dwelt on his with a kindness he had
never seen there save in some wild daydream of his.
"I will not refuse a service you offer me so gallantly," said she. "It were
an ill thing to wound you by so refusing it."
"Marquise," he cried, "it is as nothing to what I would do did the
occasion serve. But when this thing 'tis done; when you have had your
way with Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye, and the nuptials shall have

been celebrated, then - dare I hope - ?"
He said no more in words, but his little blue eyes had an eloquence that
left nothing to mere speech.
Their glances met, she holding him always at arm's length by that grip
upon his shoulders, a grip that was firm and nervous.
In the Seneschal of Dauphiny, as she now gazed upon him, she beheld a
very toad of a man, and the soul of her shuddered at the sight of him
combining with the thing that he suggested. But her glance was steady
and her lips maintained their smile, just as if that ugliness of his had
been invested with some abstract beauty existing only to her gaze; a
little colour crept into her cheeks, and red being the colour of love's
livery, Tressan misread its meaning.
She nodded to him across the little distance of her outstretched arms,
then smothered a laugh that drove him crazed with hope, and breaking
from him she sped swiftly, shyly it almost seemed to him, to the door.
There she paused a moment looking back at him with a coyness that
might have become a girl of half her years, yet which her splendid
beauty saved from being unbecoming even in her.
One adorable smile she gave him, and before he could advance to hold
the door for her, she had opened it and passed out.
CHAPTER II
MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE
To promise rashly, particularly where a woman is the suppliant, and
afterwards, if not positively to repent the promise, at least to regret that
one did not hedge it with a few conditions, is a proceeding not
uncommon to youth. In a man of advanced age, such as Monsieur de
Tressan, it never should have place; and, indeed, it seldom has, unless
that man has come again under the sway of the influences by which
youth, for good or ill, is governed.

Whilst the flush of his adoration was upon him, hot from the contact of
her presence, he knew no repentance, found room in his mind for no
regrets. He crossed to the window, and pressed his huge round face to
the pane, in a futile effort to watch her mount and ride out of the
courtyard with her little troop of attendants. Finding that he might not -
the window being placed too high - gratify his wishes in that
connection, he dropped into his chair, and sat in the fast-deepening
gloom, reviewing, fondly here, hurriedly there, the interview that had
but ended.
Thus night fell, and darkness settled down about him, relieved only by
the red glow of the logs smouldering on the hearth. In the gloom
inspiration visited him. He called for lights and Babylas. Both came,
and he dispatched the lackey that lighted the tapers to summon
Monsieur d'Aubran, the commander of the garrison of Grenoble.
In the interval before the soldier's coming he conferred with Babylas