“Ah!” and de Proballe smiled again cunningly. “All will soon be well again, then, and this little mistake made good. Few men can long resist the creaking arguments of the rack.” The Governor was silent long enough for de Proballe to think of another scheme. “There is, of course, another way. The lever you have with Gabrielle is this precious fellow’s life and safety, and if he chanced to get maimed in the progress of inquiry, she would take it very ill. Promise her his life if she will consent to marry you at once. Then send him out of the city--with an escort. Escorts have been known to quarrel with their charges before now,” he added drily. “This man, if he be in truth a spy, may be dangerous. There is that monk, too, who should also be put to the question. Perchance he knows all that you need to learn.” “I had forgotten him.” “I had not, and one man is as good as another when it comes to getting information. Leave this to me, Duke. I shall not blunder again. Meanwhile, you can go to Gabrielle with a free hand, to give her any assurances she may ask.” “We will speak of it later; I must think,” said the Governor. De Proballe looked after him as he walked away, and laughed softly to himself. “What a cauldron of trouble does this plaguey love brew for us fools of mortals!” he muttered. “Here are the whole affairs of a city tumbled topsy-turvy, hither-thither, because Gabrielle has a pretty face and yonder sour-visaged loon is sick to kiss it. Aye, aye, and blood will flow too, and men’s pates will be cracked and their throats slit before his heart ceases to ache, or I am no reader of signs; and ’twill be luck more than judgment that will carry one safe through the hurly-burly.” Meanwhile Gabrielle had carried her storm of wrath to the Duchess and had poured out her story with half-incoherent vehemence until her friend, whose sudden faintness had been invented by de Proballe as a lure to get Gabrielle away, was like to be overcome in truth. But even a girl’s wrath, however righteous, cannot last for ever; and thus in time Gabrielle’s began to abate its hurricane force, and gradually her furious indignation hardened into a stern determination to secure Gerard’s freedom and to thwart and punish those who had so maltreated him. “You have been so vehement, child, I could scarce understand you,” said the Duchess. “I know how it eases trouble to give it free vent; and so I would not interrupt to get you to clear the tangled skeins for me. But now let us see what we can do.” “I am nearly mad when I think of it,” cried Gabrielle. “If this shameful deed is not prevented, I believe I shall go mad indeed. If aught of harm comes to him, I will spend my life in avenging him.” “But now tell me, who is he?” “I do not know nor do I care. For me he is the best, the bravest, and the noblest man that ever lived.”