"So," said he, "you have released my men! Did Le Gros Guillem let them pass out of his hands for nothing?" "I paid him the hundred livres," said Noémi, speaking with difficulty. Something was in her throat choking her. "Then," said Ogier, "we owe him no debt?" "None at all." "And you are returning there--I mean to him--to the Church?" "I go to see him again." "What debt of gratitude we owe is to you--not to him?" Noémi nodded. "Then, let me say this: Do not stay at the Church." "I am not going to stay there. I shall but say farewell to----" the girl hesitated, looked at the crippled Rossignol, at his crazy wife, and concluded her sentence in an undertone--"to him, and then away to Domme." "It is well. Mark my words. Do not stay there--not a night--not a night." "Why so?" "Why so? Do you ask that? Is not the wrath of God hanging as a thundercloud over that rock? Is it not full charged with lightnings? When it bursts will it spare the innocent? Will it not involve all in one sudden destruction? Mark my words: do not tarry there--no, not an hour. Your men who came with you are here. They are at Le Peuch, and ready to attend you on your return. Do not tarry. Take counsel. L'Eglise de Guillem is no place for innocent maidens. It is no church where are holy thoughts and devout prayers--it is the Church of the Foul Fiend, and the mouth of the bottomless pit yawns there." "I thank you," said Noémi. "I know what it is. I am not going to tarry there." "There is one favour I ask of you," said the old man. "It is to take a message from me to--to the Big Guillem." "I will take it." "Tell him that when one gentleman is about to do the other the favour of a visit he sends a notice that he is coming. That is true courtesy. He forgot to do that to me. I was not ready to receive him with hospitality. Now, render me the grace to hand him this." Ogier extended to the girl a leather glove singed by fire and the ends of the fingers burnt off. Noémi hesitated to take it. "Do not fear," said the old man; "it will not hurt you. It is but a token. Your fa--I mean Le Gros Guillem, will accept the courtesy. Take it, and go." An hour later Noémi was in the Church of Guillem and before her father. Somewhat hesitatingly she held out to him the singed glove. "The Sieur del' Peyra sends you this," she said. Le Gros Guillem took the glove, threw it on the table, and burst out laughing. "The mouse defies the lion! Good! This is good! I thank you, Noémi, for bringing me this; it is a right merry jest. I drink to his visit! May he come speedily." CHAPTER X. BY FIRE.