“There’s commands from the Queen. They’re for the ears of De la Forêt,” said the seigneur. “I will hear them, too,” said Angèle, her color going, her bearing determined. The seigneur looked down at her with boyish appreciation, then said to De la Forêt: “Two queens make claim for you. The wolfish Catherine writes to England for her lost Camisard, with much fool’s talk about ‘dark figures,’ and ‘conspirators,’ ‘churls,’ and foes of ‘soft peace,’ and England takes the bait and sends to Sir Hugh Pawlett yonder. And, in brief, monsieur, the governor is to have you under arrest and send you to England. God knows why two queens make such a pother over a fellow with naught but a sword and a lass to love him--though, come to think, ‘a man’s a man if he have but a hose on his head,’ as the proverb runs.” De la Forêt smiled, then looked grave as he caught sight of Angèle’s face. “’Tis arrest, then?” he asked. “’Tis come willy-nilly,” answered the seigneur. “And once they’ve forced you from my doors, I’m for England to speak my mind to the Queen. I can make interest for her presence--I hold court office!” he added, with puffing confidence. Angèle looked up at him with quick tears, yet with a smile on her lips. “You are going to England for Michel’s sake?” she said, in a low voice. “For Michel, or for you, or for mine honor,--what matter, so that I go?” he answered, then added, “There must be haste to Rozel, friend, lest the governor take Lemprière’s guest like a potato-digger in the fields.” Putting spurs to his horse, he cantered heavily away, not forgetting to wave a pompous farewell to Angèle. De la Forêt was smiling as he turned to Angèle. She looked wonderingly at him, for she had felt that she must comfort him, and she looked not for this sudden change in his manner. “Is prison-going so blithe, then?” she asked, with a little uneasy laugh which was half a sob. “It will bring things to a head,” he answered. “After danger and busy days, to be merely safe, it is scarce the life for Michel de la Forêt. I have my duty to the comtesse; I have my love for you; but I seem of little use by contrast with my past. And yet, and yet,” he added, half sadly, “how futile has been all our fighting, so far as human eye can see!” “Nothing is futile that is right, Michel,” the girl replied. “Thou hast done as thy soul answered to God’s messages: thou hast fought when thou couldst, and thou hast sheathed thy blade when there was naught else to do. Are not both right?” He clasped her to his breast, then, holding her from him a little, looked into her eyes steadily a moment. “God hath given thee a true heart, and the true heart hath wisdom,” he answered. “You will not seek escape? Nor resist the governor?” she asked, eagerly. “Whither should I go? My place is here by you, by the Comtesse de Montgomery. One day it may be I shall return to France and to our cause--” “If it be God’s will.” “If it be God’s will.”