The Governor returned to the Castle in a somewhat less violent mood. The report that the fugitives had been seen and identified at Crevasse was so precise and definite that he was confident they would now be recaptured, and it was in this confident mood that he himself carried the news to his wife. Lucette was with her and had just told her that Gabrielle was safe at Malincourt, when he arrived, gloating at the thought of his coming triumph and brutally profuse in threats as to the punishment he would inflict. As soon as he had left, Lucette slipped away to put her own plan into operation. She did not go to Antoine at once in the courtyard, but hung about until she saw Dauban and then put herself, as if by chance, in his way, and when she was sure he had seen her she made a great show of surprise and turned as if to hurry away from him. It was well acted. “So you avoid me, mademoiselle?” he said, going after her. “How dare you speak to me?” she cried indignantly. “Fine airs for a prisoner,” he retorted. “You are a noble fellow, indeed, to taunt a poor girl, Master Dauban. But have a care what you say. If I am a prisoner, I am in the charge of one who won’t see me insulted. Antoine de Cavannes is a man with a stouter arm than Master Dauban, any day,” and she tossed her pretty head and turned again on her heel. This had just the effect she had calculated. He had been pondering over Antoine’s words, speculating who it was in his charge who knew the whereabouts of the runaways, and he chuckled now at his own cleverness in making the discovery. “Not so fast, mademoiselle; I mean no harm. I am sorry for you and would help you. On my honour, I meant no insult,” he said, following her. She stopped, but with an air of reluctance. “Yet you did taunt me,” and she gave him a reproachful glance, with just enough suggestion of tenderness in it to make him uncomfortable. But with a sudden change her eye flashed and she cried contemptuously-- “You help me! Why you are too great a coward! I thought once----” and she stopped. “I am no coward,” he answered, with none too easy a laugh. “I would have sworn that once,” her tone was now regret with the suspicion of a sigh, “but you let even Denys beat you.” It was a daring reference, but she felt very sure of her power with him. “You lured me then,” he declared, with an angry flush. This was her cue. “Master Dauban! How can you!” and she fixed her large dark eyes upon him with a look of pained reproach, changing gradually to indignation as she added, with mounting vehemence, “Did I not say you were a coward? To blame a poor girl for what was none of her fault, and never to have spoken a word to her since. Oh!” and she stamped her foot now almost viciously, “were I not a girl you should pay for the cruel slander and--aye, and all your neglect.” Then as if the thought of his neglect wounded her, her anger passed and she sighed in sore distress.