“You are really making a bad matter worse,” and de Proballe spread out his hands deprecatingly. “You are either Gerard de Cobalt or some one else. If the former, then this is a family matter which the Duke, in his love of justice and regard for the honour of our family, is willing to see arranged. But if the latter, then your conduct throughout is open to great suspicion. You came to the city secretly; you took part in our private affairs without the faintest warrant; you led a violent revolt against the Governor’s soldiers; you have wounded one of his followers--most unjustifiably; you have forced your way into the Castle here and, if not actually a spy, have acted just as a spy would have acted; you have been watched and observed to be in long confidential conference with another stranger--some pestilent contumacious monk; and thus have so gravely compromised yourself as to strain the Duke’s clemency beyond endurance.” “And all this harangue means--what?” asked Gerard, bluntly. “That you are in a very ugly fix indeed, in which my influence with the Duke can only with difficulty assist you. The monk with whom you spoke has been placed in confinement.” “You are right in one thing, M. de Proballe: I can read in this your influence with the Governor. But those who know you best know that never yet did your influence harm those against whom it was directed nor help those for whom it was cast.” At this moment a servant approached Gabrielle with a request that she would go at once to the Duchess. She had been taken ill suddenly and had asked urgently for Gabrielle. “I will come soon.” “You need not hesitate on account of me,” said Gerard with a smile. “These soldiers here,” replied Gabrielle in a tone of alarm, as she pointed to a number of men who showed in the doorways. “See. I fear danger.” “’Tis the hour for the change of guard, Gabrielle,” said de Proballe. “I will not go yet,” she declared firmly. “You cannot stay here, mademoiselle,” interposed the Governor bluntly. “I will report to you all that passes, Gabrielle,” said de Proballe. “I will not go,” she repeated. “I think you had better,” urged Gerard. “It must be as you will,” said de Proballe, when she shook her head resolutely. “Now that the men are here they will see that no violence is done. Our Gerard is so hasty, such a fire-eater, that he might be tempted to some fresh rashness which would be fatal to all settlement. Wait,” he said as if struck with a sudden thought. “It will serve the same purpose if you will give me your sword, Gerard.” “That I will never do,” was the quick indignant response. “To me then, monsieur,” said the Governor, stepping forward. “To no man, my lord.” “Then it must be taken from you;” and the Governor signed to the soldiers. In a moment Gerard’s blade was out. “Do you realize what you are doing, and where you are?” cried de Proballe. “Drawing upon the Governor of Morvaix?”