As soon as he had seen him start, he hurried with his news to the castle, had an earnest interview with the Duke, and returned to Malincourt without Gabrielle even knowing of his absence. Thus the train was all laid when at noon the Governor, in accordance with the arrangement of the previous day, came to wait upon Gabrielle. “You have made all arrangements?” was de Proballe’s greeting when they met for a moment and were going to Gabrielle. “I am not likely to fail, m’sieu,” was the drily-spoken reply. “Antoine de Cavannes and Henri d’Estelle have ridden out, and know me better than to return with any mission unfulfilled. My men serve me well or do not serve me long.” The next minute he was bowing over Gabrielle’s hand, which he would have carried to his lips had she not adroitly and with unseeming intention prevented him. “The sun never shines for me, mademoiselle, when I have no chance to look into your eyes,” he murmured, with glances of bold, almost aggressive admiration. Words and glance were alike detestable to Gabrielle. “Your lordship is pleased to flatter, but flattery does not please me,” she returned with a smile. “It is no flattery, but the truth,” he protested, his hand on his heart. “Your beauty is the fairest thing the earth holds for me.” “The good opinion of the husband of my dear friend, the Duchess de Rochelle, must of course be ever welcome, but I beg you to burden it with less wealth of language.” At the reference to his wife the Duke frowned, as he took a seat near her. “We see too little of you, mademoiselle,” he said next, “and rumour says you are often to be found in many of the humble houses in Morvaix.” “Alas! my lord, there is much distress and poverty among the people, and Holy Church requires that those who can should minister to them.” “Holy Church should do the work more thoroughly. I hold not with this constant tending and pampering of those whose chief employment seems to be to breed discontent.” “They have unhappily but too much cause for discontent,” said Gabrielle firmly. “You have considered the petition which I ventured to send to you?” He smiled indulgently. “What do you know of these things?” “My own eyes have seen their distress, their want, their sufferings. Men workless and despairing, women hopeless and languishing, children starving and crying for the food which the parents cannot give them. We who are rich and have plenty can but scantily measure the pain of those in want. Even when we see it for ourselves we cannot realize all its misery; and those of us who never see it cannot even believe in its existence.” “Would you have me don a monk’s garb, then, and turn bread carrier to a set of worthless wastrels?” asked the Governor half in anger, half in sardonic humour. “Nay, my lord, it is in no such spirit I would approach you. But you have the power to administer relief which all others lack. I would but have you recognize the evil and apply the remedy.”