Then he placed a finger on his lips and, bidding Louis Pierre go ahead with the lantern, he approached one of the towers and pushed against the postern, which yielded. Then, with the air of a host, he preceded them up a winding stairway, across an antechamber and into a sumptuously furnished salon, brilliantly lighted with wax tapers in porcelain candelabra of crystal pendants. The apartment was an example of highly refined Louis Quinze taste; the caprice of a Marquise de Brezé, removed by a wildly jealous husband from court and incarcerated in the gloomy towers of Picmort. This most capricious Marquise had adorned her prison walls with the refinements and exquisite fantasies of Versailles, until death came at last to her amid flowers, satins and laces. The boudoir remained ever after untenanted, with its mythological paintings, gilded screens, voluptuous couches, blue celadon jars, silver, ivory and enameled ornaments. Even the Marquise's lace handkerchief remained where the dying lady's feverish hand had crushed it. "My master has written that this apartment is to be occupied by you, Mademoiselle," said Jean. "It is called the Boudoir of the Marquise and the windows are always closed. There is a belief among the peasants to the effect that death should visit the castle if the windows be opened. You had best, therefore, in order to avoid comment, remain during the daytime in the rooms above. If you are seen from below, 'twill be thought that you are a servant-maid or my sister from Saint Brieuc." "You are a prudent man, Jean Vilon," said Louis Pierre. "A prudent and faithful man," said Amélie, smiling sweetly upon the Breton, as with the gentle dignity that so well became her, she seated herself in an armchair. "And now, Jean," she said, "provide my fellow-traveler with a bed and room. I see my own here. Have a little mattress brought for the boy, as he does not wish to leave me," and she caressed Baby Dick's blond head as she added an assurance that she would be very comfortable. As the two men retired, the light of dawn silvered the stern turrets of Picmort. Chapter II BAD NEWS On the following day, Amélie and Louis Pierre had a serious talk. "I do not consider," remarked the girl, "that René has reason to complain of my compliance with his instructions. I have obeyed him blindly, and that is not so easy a thing for me to do. But now I demand to know why, instead of accompanying my father to Paris and of hearing our faithful adherents acclaim him King, I am banished as tho I were a prisoner and enjoined to remain in a peasant's dress behind closed windows. In order to breathe fresh air, I must ascend the dizzy heights of a tower." Louis Pierre did not at once reply. He sat for a few moments in that gloomy attitude which he so often assumed. "Mademoiselle," he said after a few moments, "courage!" "Speak the truth," demanded Amélie imperiously. "I am no weakling."