“Oh, Gerard, Gerard,” cried de Proballe, with a laugh. “You will never push your way in this good city of Morvaix while you show yourself so cold and indifferent. Well, well, come to the Duke or go to the--Church your own way. It’s all one to me,” and with a laugh he swept on. He was in high spirits. “There is some meaning in this,” muttered Gerard, gazing after him. “Go you, Dubois, and see to all I have said. I will make my way to the Duke. ‘When de Proballe laughs there is the devil by his elbow,’ was once a proverb in Paris, and it may be just as true in Morvaix.” Without appearing to hasten, he followed de Proballe, keeping a wary eye for all things as he passed along, and quickened his steps when he caught sight of the Governor in the distance in conference with de Proballe, while Gabrielle, her back toward him, was watching them closely. The Governor had come down in response to de Proballe’s urgent message in the firm belief that the news was that of Gerard’s flight and his first question was to that effect. “He has gone?” he asked eagerly. “A word first into your ear;” and de Proballe drew him aside. “Gone? No, thank Heaven! better than that, much better. He is here in the Castle. I have spoken to him this minute.” “Has he dared?” exclaimed the Governor with a frown. “Dared? It seems he would dare anything. Wait, here he is,” he cried, catching sight of Gerard. “Now you shall see a comedy. Come, Gerard, come; I was waiting for you. I want your help.” Hearing of his presence Gabrielle turned and ran to Gerard and stood by him. “What is this?” demanded the Governor of de Proballe. “Bear with me and have your guards at hand, and you will see,” was the whispered reply. “They are always at hand here,” was the curt grim reply. De Proballe went toward Gerard, a smile on his lips. “So you have not followed our advice, Gerard, and fled. You like the city and the Castle? Perhaps you were seeking ghostly advice just now from that sturdy monk? I found our young friend in close consultation with a monk as I passed, Duke. Preparing, let us think, for that longer journey which you mentioned as the alternative to flight from the city.” De Proballe was obviously enjoying the situation and resolved to make the most of it. “Who was the monk? Do you know him?” asked the Governor quickly. “He who came from the Cardinal Archbishop, the delegate. Gerard, it seems, is particular as to who shall shrive him. Our Morvaix priests are not good enough. The conference lasted long, too; at least so Antoine de Cavannes told me.” The Governor shot a sharp glance at Gerard, who said to Gabrielle-- “The monk is one of those whom I met two days ago in the market place, Gabrielle, when Babillon, the smith, was done to death at my lord’s bidding.” He spoke quietly and calmly. “You may remember him; a dark, swarthy, burly man who helped you. The companion of him who stepped between us and the soldiery.”