"It is distressing to me, Dame Marguerite, to bring what may be bad news to you, who received me so kindly upon my arrival from Beauvoisis." "Our friend Jocelyn recommended you to us; he informed us of your misfortunes and of your tender care of that ill-starred Aveline. Our good wishes in your behalf were but natural. But what is the matter?" "This evening I was looking out of the window of my room at the tumult of the people in the street, because you must know there is an unusual agitation this evening on the streets of Paris, when a young man all out of breath, handed me this note from Rufin the Tankard-smasher." Alison drew from her corsage a slip of paper which she passed to Marguerite, who nervously seizing it began to read it aloud: "As true as Venus in her Olympian beauty...." "Skip that, skip that, Dame Marguerite! Begin at the fourth or fifth line," said Alison, blushing and smiling at once. "Those are but flourishes that Master Rufin amuses himself with. Lose no more time over them than I did myself.... That worthy fellow should have abstained from his roguishness when writing upon such serious subjects." After having run her eyes over the first lines of the epistle, during which the student displayed his amorous and mythological vein, Marguerite arrived at the essential portion of the missive: " ... Hurry to the house of Master Marcel; if he is not at home, tell his honored wife to have him warned not to leave the town-hall without a strong escort. I am on the track of a plot against him. So soon as I shall have positive proofs I shall go either to Master Marcel's house, or to the town-hall to inform him of my discovery. Above all, let him be on his guard against Councilman Maillart. He has no more mortal enemy. He ought to order his arrest on the spot ... just as I would on the spot have your heart for my prison whose turnkey is the gentle bantling Cupid." "Skip all that also, Dame Marguerite; those are some more flourishes. There is nothing more of importance. I am not a little surprised at seeing master student mix up folly with serious matter in that manner." "Serious, indeed! Very serious!... This letter increases my apprehensions," answered Marguerite, trembling; and recalling her recent conversation with the councilman's wife, she thought to herself: "Could the councilman's offer be a snare?... And still I can not yet accept the existence of quite so horrible a plot!" "My God!" cried Denise bitterly, "and yet uncle, despite all our presentiments, always answers us when we mention to him our suspicions regarding Maillart: 'He is not a bad sort of a man; only he is wholly under the influence of his wife, who is devoured with vanity. Do not judge him unjustly.'" "Dear Alison," rejoined Marguerite after a few moments' reflection, "did you question the messenger who brought you the letter?" "Indeed, madam ... I asked where he had left Master Rufin." "What answer did he make?"