you have to call me to account?"
"The right of a man who adores you, mademoiselle."
"That is no right at all. A man's right concerning a woman must be derived from her own actions. But come inside the church, monsieur."
She made a gesture to her attendants, and reentered the church. I followed her. We stood together before the font in the dim light.
"And now," she continued, facing me, "suppose I grant that I have so acted as to give you a right to question me; what then? Is it my fault that you have followed me this morning? Is it, then, any more my fault that I have been followed, also, by M. de Noyard?"
"But he must have been here before you."
"What does that prove? A score of people in the Louvre knew yesterday that I was coming to this church to-day."
"But so deserted a church—so out of the way! Who would come here from the Louvre but for a tryst?"
She smiled, indulgently. "Can a thing have no cause except the obvious one?" she said. "I visit this church once every month, because, obscure though it be, it is associated with certain events in the history of my ancestors."
"But," I went on, though beginning to feel relieved, "if M. de Noyard was thrusting his presence on you, why did he leave before you did?"
"Probably because he knew that I would not leave the church while he remained to press his company upon me outside."
The low tones that we had to use, on account of our surroundings, gave our conversation an air of confidence and secrecy that was delicious to me; and now her voice fell even lower, when she added:
"I take the pains to explain these things to you, monsieur, because I do not wish you to think that I have intrigues;" and she regarded me fixedly with her large gray eyes, which in the dimness of the place were darker and more lustrous than usual.
Delightfully thrilled at this, I made to take her hand and stoop to kiss it, but stopped for a last doubt.
"Mademoiselle," I said, "I think you only the most adorable woman in the world. But there is one thing which has cost me many a sleepless hour, many a jealous surmise. If I could be reassured as to the nature of your errand that night when I first saw you—"
"Oh!" she laughed, "I was coming from an astrologer's."
"But you were not coming from the direction of Ruggieri's house."
"There are many astrologers in Paris, besides Ruggieri. Although the Queen-mother relies implicitly on him, one may sometimes get a more pleasing prediction from another; or, another may be clear on a point on which he is vague."
"But the hour—"
"I took the time when I was not on duty, and he kept me late. It was for a friend that I visited the astrologer—a friend who was required in the palace all that evening. The astrologer had to be consulted that night, as my friend wished to be guided in a course that she would have to take the next morning. Now, Monsieur Curiosity, are you satisfied?"
This time I took her hand and pressed my lips upon it.
She was silent for a moment, noting the look of admiration on my face.
Then, quickly, and in little more than a whisper, she said:
"I have answered your questions, though not admitting your right to ask them. Would you know how to gain that right?"
"Tell me!" I said, my heart beating rapidly with elation.
"Challenge M. de Noyard, and kill him!"
I stared in astonishment.
"Now you may know whether or not I love him," she added.
"But, mademoiselle—why—"
"Ah, that is the one thing about which I must always refuse to be questioned! I ask you this service. Will you grant it?"
"If he has given you offence," I said, "certainly I will seek him at once."
"Not a word of me is to be said between you! He must not know that I have spoken to you."
"But a man is not to be killed without reason."
"A pretext is easily invented."
"Certainly—a pretext to hide the cause of a quarrel from the world. But the real cause ought to be known to both antagonists."
"I shall not discuss what ought or ought not to be. I ask you, will you fight this man and try to kill him? I request nothing unusual—men are killed every day in duels. You are a good swordsman; Bussy d'Amboise himself has said so. Come! will you do this?" She looked up at me with a slight frown of repressed petulance.
"If you will assure me that he has affronted you, and permit me to let him know, privately, the cause of my quarrel."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, with irritation, "must a lady give a hundred reasons when she requests a service of a gentleman?"
"One sufficient reason, when it is a service like this."
"Well, I shall give none. I desire his death—few gentlemen would ask a further reason."
"I had not thought you so cruel, mademoiselle, as to desire the death of any man."
"God forbid that I should desire the death of any other man! So, monsieur, I must understand that you refuse to serve me in this?"
Her contemptuous look made me sigh. "Can you not see, mademoiselle, that to resolve deliberately and secretly on a man's death, and with premeditation to create a pretext for a challenge, is little better than assassination?"
"A fine excuse to avoid risking your life!"
Again I had to endure a look of profound scorn from her.
"Mademoiselle," I replied, patiently, "I would that you might see how ready I am to fight when an affront is given me or some one needs a defender."
"Oh!" she said, with an ironical smile. "Then to show yourself a lion against De Noyard, you require only that he shall affront you, or that some one shall need a defender against him! Suppose that I should ever be in such need?"
"You know that in your defence I would fight an army."
Her smile now lost its irony, and she assumed a look of conciliation, which I was both surprised and rejoiced to behold.
"Well, monsieur, it is pleasant to know that, if you will not take the offensive for me, you will, at least, act readily on the defensive if the occasion comes."
Much relieved at the turn the conversation had taken, I now undertook to continue it to my advantage. After some bantering, maintained with gaiety on her part, she said that she must return to the Louvre. Then, as she would not have me accompany her in the streets, I begged her to appoint another meeting. She evaded my petition at first, but, when I took her hand and refused to release it until she should grant my request, she said, after a little submissive shrug of her shoulders:
"Very well. Follow me, at a distance, from this church, and observe a house before which I shall stop for a moment as if to adjust my cloak. It is a house that has been taken by a friend of mine, one of the Queen-mother's ladies. I shall be there tomorrow afternoon."
"Alas! To-morrow I shall be on duty till six in the evening."
"Then come at seven. Knock three times on the street door." And with that she slipped her hand from mine, and hastened lightly out of the church. I stood alone by the font, delighted and bewildered. There was so much to mystify me that I did not even search my mind for explanations. I thought my happiness about to be attained, and left it for the future to explain—as it did!
CHAPTER IV.