“He is bad to the heart’s core. His wife is my one intimate friend in Morvaix, an honourable, God-fearing woman, who has suffered unspeakable sorrows at his hands in her life. She is now bed-ridden, poor soul; and we have spoken freely together of the Duke.” “He is a tyrant--that I have learnt.” “And many worse things, I fear. I would not willingly speak ill of any man, but to you I should speak freely. He has but too well merited the term men give him--the Tiger of Morvaix. Could the grim walls and torture chambers of his castle bear witness against him, fearsome truths indeed would come to light.” “Tell me of them.” “Nay, not to-night. To-night we will not speak of Morvaix horrors; rather let us hope that from to-night, from your coming, Gerard, better times will dawn for the city and the unfortunate citizens. The Duke is a hard, harsh, cruel man, who tolerates but one principle of rule: blind implicit obedience to his will, to be enforced by any measure of cruelty, however violent and harsh. He has ground down the people until the yoke has become intolerable; and yet there seems no remedy. I sent tidings privately to the Duke of Bourbon, as Suzerain of the province, praying him to come or send aid to us before the people should be driven to open rebellion. But no one comes, no one heeds; and we must work out our own rescue. I have a faint hope indeed, that matters will mend.” “How?” “I saw the Duke to-day, and urged him to relax the severity of his rule--to take off this last cruel impost on the people’s food, for one thing; and he half promised, making his consent contingent on some sacrifice from me. God knows there is nothing I would not give in such a cause. I would strip myself of all my possessions--even of Malincourt itself, dearly as I love every stone of the old maison. But I hold the welfare of the people dearer. He would not name the condition, however, leaving it to me to do so. And I know not what he wishes.” Gerard’s face grew dark with anger as he listened, knowing full well from de Proballe’s words what the condition was. “We shall together find the means, Gabrielle,” he said earnestly. “My hand and oath on that; and my life the forfeit if I fail.” “You will help me in this,” she cried, joyfully and eagerly. “Oh, Gerard, did I not say to-day how glad I was that you had come! What great issues now depend on you. With you to help me, a strong man at Malincourt, to oppose the castle; not violently I mean, but with the strength of all the people’s sympathy behind us, what may we not achieve? But when you see the Duke, be wary of him; give him no cause present offence that we may be the stronger in the future.” “Does any one but you know that you sent to Bourbon for help? Your uncle, for instance?” “No. I told no one; not even him. I deemed him too intimate with the Governor. He would not wittingly betray me, I know, for he has often spoken to me in sorrow of the Duke’s government. You like him, Gerard?”