"In the battle of the Rue Etienne," he said, "which was fought between myself and a hell-born Papist, on St. Bartholomew's night, in 1572. From the next house-roof, I had seen Coligny's body thrown, bleeding, from his own window into his courtyard, for I was one of those who were with him when his murderers came, and whom he ordered to flee. I ran from roof to roof, hoping to reach a house where a number of Huguenots were, that I might lead them back to avenge the admiral's murder. I dropped to the street and ran around a corner straight into the arms of one of the butchers employed by the Duke of Guise that night to decorate the streets of Paris with the best blood in France. Seeing that I did not wear the white cross on my arm, he was good enough to give me this red mark on my forehead. But in those days I was quick at repartee, and I gave him a similar mark on a similar place. Then I was knocked down from behind, and when I awoke it was the next day. The dogs had thought me dead. As for the man who gave me this mark, I have not seen him since, but for thirteen years I have prayed hard to the bountiful Father in Heaven to bring us together again some day, and the good God in His infinite kindness will surely do so!" Now and then mademoiselle turned in her saddle to look behind. It was when she did this for the ninth or tenth time that she gave a start, and her lips parted with a half-uttered ejaculation of alarm. I followed her look and saw five mounted figures far behind us, on the road. It was most probable that these were De Berquin, Barbemouche, and the latter's three ragged comrades. But in this sight I found no reason to be disturbed. If mademoiselle was the object of De Berquin's quest, I felt that our party was sufficiently strong to protect her. If he had abandoned the intention of annoying her with further importunities, and was merely proceeding to Clochonne in order to act as the governor's spy against me, there could be no immediate danger in his presence, for he did not suspect that I was the Sieur de la Tournoire. "Be assured, mademoiselle," I said, "you have nothing whatever to fear from M. de Berquin." "I do not fear for myself," she replied, with a pathetic little smile. "It cannot be possible that, having seen me only once, he should put himself to so much trouble merely to inflict his attentions on me." "Then you never saw him before the meeting at the inn to-day?" I asked, in surprise. "Never. When he addressed me and introduced himself, I was surprised that he should already know my name."