“Because, monsieur,” answered Pasdeloup grimly, “you do not know Goujon. Hatred of monsieur was not the only reason which led to this attack.” “What other reason was there?” Pasdeloup looked down at the mob, then away to the east toward Dange, his lips compressed. “Come, tell me!” commanded his master. “This is not the time for hesitancies.” Pasdeloup cleared his throat gruffly. “Citizen Goujon has the audacity to love Madame la Comtesse,” he said finally. M. le Comte burst into a laugh. “Any fool may worship a star,” he said. “He cannot drag it down to him.” “Goujon is trying to drag this one down, monsieur,” added Pasdeloup quietly, “as he tried once before. This time he believes that success is certain.” M. le Comte grew suddenly sober. “‘As he tried once before?’” he repeated. “Your meaning, Pasdeloup?” “Ah, monsieur,” answered Pasdeloup, with a gesture indicating that the matter had been taken out of his hands, “it was not by mistake that Goujon entered that attic three years ago. That girl to whom you would not listen--terror had frightened her into the truth. For that attic extended also above the apartment of madame. He had fashioned a hole in the ceiling; he had even planned to descend some night when you were absent....” “Ah, if I had known!” cried his master hoarsely. “If I had known! But how do you know all this, Pasdeloup?” he demanded, turning upon the other fiercely, a sudden red suspicion in his eyes. “Goujon himself told me,” replied Pasdeloup calmly, “two nights ago at Dange, when he had drunk too much wine. Shall I continue the story, monsieur, or have you heard enough?” “Continue! Let us have it all;” and M. le Comte bowed his head upon his breast. “Expelled from the house and from your service,” went on Pasdeloup, “Goujon spent his days and nights watching the château in the hope that chance might yet give madame into his hands. He lived by poaching, as you happened to discover. After you had punished him he still lingered for a time in your woods, defying death. He was half-mad, I think: he was willing to suffer any torment, face any torture, if he could die with the consciousness of having possessed madame. Not only his passion for her, but his hatred of you urged him on. At last he thought of a better way; he joined the assassins at Paris, and now he has returned armed with a power which will give him his revenge. All of this,” he added, with a gesture toward the hall below, “is for the purpose of enabling him to taste that revenge. You can guess now why he ordered that madame should be delivered into his hands unharmed.” M. le Comte’s face was livid. “Is he in this mob?” he asked hoarsely. “Point him out to me, Pasdeloup!” “I do not think he is here,” answered Pasdeloup. “Not yet--but he will come--and perhaps, who knows, fate may give you a chance at him.” M. le Comte grew suddenly silent, searching the other’s face with eyes intent.