"Ha!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "So! Is it so?--Well. You have done right, Pierre, and shall be rewarded. Come hither at daybreak to-morrow; and now go sleep." The man retired; and the moment he was gone, Madame de Chazeul started up, and with a vehement gesture of the hand, exclaimed, "He knows it all!--She has found means to write!--Ah, how subtle is he! Who would have thought from that calm peaceful face he bore to-night, that such rage and hatred, and thirst of revenge were in his bosom, as must be there even now? We shall have plots on foot--some scheme to stop the marriage. What can be in this book? Here, girl! Call Martin from the foot of the other staircase, bid him run to the stable and bring the boy Philip hither--by force if he come not quietly. Away! lose not a minute lest he be gone!" The girl departed; and the Marchioness went on with her own thoughts. "What can be in the book? There is something beneath this!--Or has that fool Pierre deceived himself, and knowing the girl is not there, put words into the man's mouth? Yet why send at this hour secretly?--why falsely use my name to sanction the order? No, no, he knows it all, and must be cared for. There is but one way--secure him till the marriage is over,--let my brother know nought of it,--and then justify the deed by the result." She sat down, and leaned her brow upon her hands, closing her eyes, till the door again opened, and the maid re-entered, accompanied by another of her men. "Well," she exclaimed, as soon as she saw him; "Where is Philip?" "He has been gone this half hour, Madam, the stable boys declare," was the man's reply. Madame de Chazeul let her hand fall heavily on the table; but suddenly recovering herself she said, "Keep a watch upon the gates from five to-morrow, till Philip returns. Then bring him at once to me,--let him speak with no one; and hark you, Martin; you are a man of execution,--Get ye gone, hussy! 'tis not for your ears. Come nearer, Martin," and she whispered something as he bent down his head. The man started back with a look of consternation, saying, "No, Madam! not a priest! I cannot do that!" "Fool! 'tis but for a few hours," exclaimed the Marchioness. "Hark ye,--one hundred crowns! You shall keep him under your own ward, and set him free five minutes after noon." "Well, Madam, well!" answered the servant, after a moment's thought; "but you must promise to get me absolution, cost what it may; for it is no light matter laying hands upon one of the church,--and so good a catholic too." "Oh, absolution you shall have!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "from the hands of a bishop, if that will satisfy you; and, if there be any difficulty, you have nothing to do but to kill a heretic, and that will make all even. Do you promise to obey?--Mark me, a hundred crowns and absolution, cost what it may!" "Well, Madam, well," he replied; "I will do it, this once; but you must never ask me to meddle with a priest again."