"Ah, mademoiselle," cried Marie, whose rosy face was pale also with fear, and whose eyelids were swollen with the tears of sympathy she had already shed for her young mistress, "how terrible a mischance is here! But, mademoiselle, ’tis, I warrant me, much the doing of that evil imp, Pierre the fool, for Job hath been telling me what chanced whilst we were out yonder plucking daisies and dreaming little of the ill in store for us." "Pierre the fool?" echoed Gwennola, drying her tears and looking at her handmaiden in surprise. "Nay, what hath the saucy varlet to do in the brewing of such pickle?" "He loveth well Monsieur de Coray," said Marie, nodding her head wisely, "and hath as little liking for thee, sweet lady, as he hath for aught that is good and true and unlike his own crooked person and soul; and so it chanced that last night, instead of sleeping beside Reine and Gloire, as any well-ordered Christian fool should have done, he poked and pryed into what concerned him not, and, creeping softly in the darkness down the chapel steps, because, forsooth! he thought to hear voices, he cometh so suddenly upon Father Ambrose—who, for some purpose of which the saints alone wot, was waiting there near the chapel door—that the poor priest fell backwards in his alarm down the two steps that remained, and so cracked his head that he hath lain unconscious ever since, and cannot be questioned, which perchance is well for him, as it may be that my lord’s anger against him will have time to cool, as he suspects him of aiding you also, dear lady, seeing that the mischievous Pierre, not content with well-nigh killing the good father, goeth into the chapel, where, failing to find aught to account for voices, he further pryeth till it seemeth he picked up your kerchief on the very steps of the altar, and this with his lying tale he carries to his master at dawn, whereupon Monsieur de Coray laid his accusations upon you for the escape of the French monsieur." "Nay," said Gwennola quietly. "That were a tale I must needs have told, were it but for the saving of the poor Father Ambrose, of whose sorry plight I grieve to hear. Fain would I to his side, Marie, but that even is forbidden me, for here must I bide a prisoner, whilst, alas! alas! it may be that even now they discover the hiding-place of—of——" She checked herself, meeting Marie’s curious eyes. "Nay, wench," she said sharply, "heed not my foolish words; and yet, oh, Marie, Marie! my heart breaks with fears and sorrow. Was ever maid so unhappy as thy poor mistress?" "Nay, dear lady," said the girl affectionately, laying her hand softly on her mistress’s. "Courage! it may yet be that all will be well. See, we will pray to our Blessed Lady, whose protection and aid will most surely be vouchsafed to the persecuted and innocent."