"One moment!" The slender figure turned. "This fastening--" In an instant the woman was by her side. "Have you heard anything more about the prisoners, Marie?" abruptly. "Those who were tried, I mean?" "Nothing--only Beppo said they are to be hanged day after to-morrow--when the pilgrimage is over." "Day after to-morrow!" The brown eyes looked hard and bright; the small white teeth pressed her lip. "And the man my fa--the Governor had--whipped from the Mount--you have heard nothing more of him--where he has gone?" "No, my Lady; he seems to have disappeared completely; fled this country, perhaps, for those islands where so many like him," half bitterly, "have gone before!" The girl looked up in a preoccupied manner. "Poor Marie! Your only sister died there, didn't she?" "Yes, my Lady; I never saw her after she left France with her husband and baby girl. He was an unpatriotic fellow--Pierre Laroche!" "No doubt," said the Governor's daughter absently, as the other prepared to leave the room. Alone, the girl remained for several moments motionless before the great Venetian mirror; then mechanically, hardly looking at the reflection the glass threw back at her, she finished her toilet. This task accomplished, still she stood with brows closely drawn; afar the flute-like voices of the choir-boys arose from different parts of the Mount, but she did not seem to hear them; made a sudden quick gesture and walked toward the door in the manner of one who has arrived at some resolution. Passing down a corridor, she reached an arched opening whose massive door swung easily to her touch, and let herself out by a private way, which had once been the ancient abbot's way, to an isolated corner of a small secluded platform. From this point a stairway led up to a passage spanning a great gulf. Below and aside, where the red-tiled houses clung to the steep slope of the rock, fluttered many flags; yet the girl did not pause either to contemplate or admire. Only when her glance passed seaward and rested on the far-away ocean's rim of light, did she stop for an instant--mid-way on the bridge--then, compressing her lips, moved on the faster; down the incline on the other side; up winding stairs between giant columns, reaching, at length, that bright and grateful opening, the cloister. With an unvarying air of resolution she stepped forward; looked in; the place was empty--silent save for the tinkling of the tiny fountain in the center. "Are you looking for some one, my Lady?" The voice was that of Beppo, who was regarding her from an angle in the cloister walk. "I am looking for his Excellency. I suppose he is--" "In the apartments of state, my Lady. But--" The girl frowned. "But, but!" she said. "But what?" "His Excellency has left word--he was expecting a minister from Paris--that no one else was to be admitted; the matter was so important that he wished no interruptions."