“In truth, I scarce had time to see, Lucette; but he seemed in all respects a manly man, a figure of distinction truly. Tall and knightly in mien; his face unbearded and full of strength, yet kindly and courteous; fair in colouring; and his blue eyes, keen and flashing fire as he faced the soldiery, were gentle and solicitous when viewing my plight; his voice resolute with the tone of one accustomed to command; yet tuned to gentle accents, as it seemed to me. I much mistake me if he be not a knight of loftier station than his sober brown attire would seem to bespeak him. A most gallant gentleman and a brave heart.” “You saw much, cousin, it seems, although you had no time, as you say;” and Lucette, with a smile to herself, turned to her spinning wheel. “I will seek him out, mademoiselle,” said Denys, “and no doubt shall find him. Shall I give him any message?” “I could not even stay to thank him, and would wish to do so. Let him know as much.” “Before I go, there is a grave matter on which I would speak with you.” “Not now, Denys, but afterward. He must not think Gabrielle de Malincourt ungrateful. I beg you hasten at once in quest of him.” “I will go,” he answered, and turning toward Lucette, said nervously: “Lucette, I----” “We can finish our quarrel when you return,” she interposed. “I may forgive you if you do Gabrielle’s service quickly.” Her tone was one of indifference, but he read the smile in her eyes and went with a light quick step upon his errand. Gabrielle had dropped into the vacant seat by Lucette and now leant back thinking, her lips slightly parted and her eyes dreamy. “He was a handsome man, coz, this cavalier of yours?” Gabrielle started at the question and then met her friend’s half-quizzing look calmly. “I have never seen a nobler, Lucette. I hope our good Denys will find him. Why do you plague that good fellow so sorely?” “Nay, it is he plagues me. He is always quarrelling.” “_You_ are always finding cause to make him, you mean?” “He is a man, and must be kept in his place;” and Lucette shrugged her shoulders. “By bickering and teasing and wrangling? Does it please you?” “There is always the making up again;” and Lucette laughed roguishly. “Beware how you try him too much. He is sterling mettle.” She paused and suppressed a sigh as she added: “How happy you should be!” Lucette glanced across at her and her manner changed. “You are thinking again, Gabrielle. You are not sad?” “Yes, I was thinking. I ought not to be sad, to-day of all days; and yet----” The rest of the sentence was an unmistakable sigh, deep and sincere. “He may prove a gallant cavalier, Gabrielle, your Gerard; as gallant maybe as your hero of the market place. Don’t look like that, dear.” “I am afraid, Lucette, horribly afraid. You cannot tell how it is with me. I am perhaps overwrought by this terrible scene in the market place, and--oh, I know not what I feel;” and with a shudder she covered her face with her hands.