"If I but knew myself! If I but knew myself!" I called out aloud, and then moved aimlessly towards the window. Here I looked out, but saw nothing of the view, for I was looking into my own heart, and there all was mist and fog. The more I tried to think the more hopeless it all seemed, and it came to me to abandon my position, and, accepting my fate, make the best of circumstances as other women had done. I could give respect and trust; and as long as my husband knew this, and I looked after his comforts, he would never know that I did not love him. I had seen enough of the world to know how selfishly blind men are in this respect. But de Lorgnac was not as other men. I felt that his keen eye would take in the part I was playing, that his great love for me would penetrate and grasp all my devices, and that he would feel that he had only a wife--not a lover as well. What was this love that I was in doubt about? If it meant absolute sacrifice of myself, then I could give it to no man. If it meant respect, and honour, and a desire for a constant guiding presence about me, then I felt I could give that to Blaise de Lorgnac; but I felt, too, that more was due to him, and it was well to wait--to wait until my heart told me undeniably that I had found its king. The neigh of a horse, and the clatter of hoofs on stony ground, aroused me. Bending forward over the window, I looked out and saw de Lorgnac and a half dozen mounted men riding out of the courtyard. My husband rode a little in advance, square and erect, his plumeless helmet glittering in the sunlight; but he never gave one backward glance to the window. Even if he thought I was not there, he might have done so; he might have given me the chance. The men who rode behind him seemed stout, strong fellows, though their casques were battered and their cuirasses rusty; and as the last of them went out I recognised la Coquille. I know I had no right to pick and choose for de Lorgnac, but I would have given my right hand not to have seen that swashbuckler riding behind my husband. Such men as he were never employed on honest deeds! With a stamp of my foot I turned from the window and saw Pierre, the old servant, waiting patiently near the door, with a huge bunch of keys on a salver in his hand. As our eyes met he bowed to the ground. "I did not know it was Madame de Lorgnac who was here until an hour ago," he said. "Monsieur le Chevalier has directed that these should be given over to you, and the household is outside awaiting madame's orders." Half amused, half embarrassed, I took the keys. I felt sure de Lorgnac had given no such order, but that this was the spontaneous outcome of old Pierre's politeness. Fastening them in my girdle, I said, with as gracious, yet dignified an air as I could assume, "Call in the people, please."