“An easy one,” returned the priest--“she will be hanged.” Luc turned his head towards the speaker. “Because she is a heretic?” he asked slowly. “What else?” The angry blood stained the Marquis’s delicate face. He knew these things happened, but he had never before been brought close to them. “You make me feel ashamed of my humanity,” he said. “Are you a Protestant?” demanded the priest. “No.” “Perhaps you do not believe in the Gospels?” urged the other maliciously. Luc gazed at him with a kindling scorn. “Neither in Gospels, nor Christ, nor God,” he said sternly, “nor any of the symbols superstition uses--nor in anything you and your kind worship.” The priest was taken aback for a moment and did not answer, but the Italian remarked cheerfully-- “A follower of M. de Voltaire.” “A follower of no man,” returned Luc wearily. Some minutes passed while the three horsemen seemed to be waiting silently. Then Luc moved his horse away in the direction of the high road; he had seen the soldiers, without their prisoner, and the straggling crowd coming back over the crest of the hill. The Italian cried after him-- “Are you for Avignon to-night, Monsieur?” He answered without looking back. When he reached the main road again the dark clouds that had been lowering all day broke and a steady rain began to fall, hastening the short autumn twilight. After perhaps half a league the road branched. The Marquis turned to the left, but soon perceived that he had missed his way, for the dark was descending, and there was no sign of the walls of Avignon on all the wide, gloomy horizon. The rain was steady, cold, and seemed not likely to cease. The only building in sight was a deserted farmhouse with the roof half gone and weeds and fallen masonry choking garden and yard. Some of the lower rooms were, however, dry and sheltered, and in one of them Luc, his servant, and the two horses took refuge for the night. CHAPTER X THE MAGICIAN The Marquis, roused by his servant, woke to see the man standing in misty moonlight by the square of window; with a languid distaste at being called from sleep Luc rose. “Monsigneur,” said the servant in a low voice, “there are those two, the foreigner and the priest, and a third with them just gone into the barn.” He pointed to a building close to the house, from the large doorway of which came a great blaze of light, strong and fitful, as if caused by a bonfire. The reflection of it trembled over the rough floor of the room, and it was this that had aroused the servant to look from the window, when he had, he declared, seen three men carrying lanterns cross the yard and enter the barn; he swore to two being the Italian and the priest.