"Jan Meert? Gaspard, I had forgotten Jan Meert; in my happiness I had forgotten Jan Meert. He is coming, coming to-night, and I had forgotten everything but you. Do not go by the door lest you meet him. By the window, Gaspard, and--yes--there is Father Paul's cloak, take that and muffle your face. Kiss me once, Gaspard, and go." The first half of her commands I obeyed, and not once only, but the second---- "When I am done with Jan Meert, _ma mie_! he owes me a life--Babette's." "Babette's?" "Yes." "And I, am I owed nothing? Oh, my dear! it is not because of Jan Meert that I am afraid, but because of the King who stands behind him. For my sake, Gaspard, yes, for love's sake----ah! what is a dead hate compared to a living love? Think what I was ready to give for you. And Brigitta, do you owe her nothing? She loves this Jan Meert even as--as--I love you." "And Justice?" "God has all eternity for Justice, yes, and all time too. I have only you and now. Go for to-night." "They will call me coward, and how could so brave a heart love a coward?" "A coward? You? They dare not!" she answered, her pride defiant in her eyes. "It is I who am afraid." "Yet you would go to Plessis?" "For you, and all the time, coward that I am, I was horribly afraid, as I am now. Go, Gaspard, go for to-night." And I went; what else could a man do but go? But not far; feeling my way along the outhouse roof I hid myself in the shadows and watched for what should happen. Closing the window behind me, Suzanne returned to the table, and there the two stood talking, Brigitta, I surmised, explaining much that was uncertain. It was like a living picture. By the light of the lamp I saw everything, but from where I crouched no sound reached me through the shut window. But in the midst of their talk I saw Brigitta touch Suzanne's arm and hold up a hand for silence. So they waited for a breath or two, their faces turned from me; then the door opened a foot, and Martin backed into the room, his drawn sword pointing straight before him. This way and that the blade flashed, half hidden, half in sight, as he fenced in the narrow space till the door opened with a burst and he staggered back. Of the five men who followed him, I knew but one, and he, when I had last seen him, called himself Jean Volran. The corridor where I had left Martin was dark, and I take it they had only then recognised him, for I saw Volran's mouth open in a laugh, and shaking a hand in the air, he waved the others back; there was a certain fall in the inn of La Voulle to be avenged.