De Proballe was ill at ease, indeed. He did not like the attitude which Gerard had adopted. He had looked for a pliant tool, afraid of his life; and he found instead, a man who showed independence and firmness, who had a will of his own, and who both said and did things that made against his plans. For his purpose it was not by any means enough that Gerard should succeed in making a good impression on Gabrielle. That was right, so far as it went; but Gerard seemed to be captivated by her beauty; and that was altogether wrong. If there was to be love between them, the whole scheme might be jeopardised; and with it would go his own more daring and ambitious plans. Were Gerard to marry Gabrielle and then turn against him, no one could foresee the consequences. The blundering interference in regard to Denys was unaccountable; and the manner in which he had flinched from the necessary step of dealing with one whose knowledge was so dangerous, was profoundly disturbing. It was enough to rouse the wrath of any one; and when Dauban brought word that a watch was actually being kept which rendered it impossible even to get to the door of the room, his perplexity equalled his ill-temper. He had his own standards of judging men; and he could only come now to the conclusion that Gerard was in some way playing for his own hand. This thought kept him in a ferment of speculation the whole night. Seeing Gerard in the gardens early, he went down to him, resolved to have an explanation. “I want a word with you, Gerard,” he said, bluntly. “We must understand one another, or this thing goes no farther.” Gerard had gone out early in the hope of seeing Gabrielle, and was anything but pleased to have de Proballe’s company instead; nor did he at all relish the peremptory tone in which de Proballe spoke. Thus his answer was sharp and curt. “What is there we do not understand, monsieur?” “In the first place, you must understand that as I am the author of this marriage scheme, you must work for it as I direct, or it must come to an end.” “Is that so?” “Yes, it is so; and you had better know it. I first thought of it; I found the proofs of her parents’ wishes to lay before Gabrielle; and what I made I can as easily unmake again. I have but to speak a word and the bubble will burst.” “Then it was a lie, M. de Proballe?” asked Gerard coldly and incisively. “A lie, as you know perfectly well; one in which you have already taken part, and which you have come here in person to continue to the end. It is useless for us to play like children at pretences. In your letters to me you have expressed your willingness to put yourself entirely in my hands, to do precisely what I tell you. Now, will you do it? If you will not, say so.” “My memory for such matters is short, monsieur, and in regard to all such communications I am as if I had never penned them”; replied Gerard, after a moment’s pause.