"The very best; she finds me unendurable." "Philosophy shirks the solving of that problem, your Excellency," was the cold reply. "No, it is easy. The woman to be trusted is she who never trusts." "The paragon--or prodigy--who is she?" "Even Madame Jamond." "She danced for you once, your Excellency, they tell me." "She was a devil that night; she drove us mad." So Doltaire had not given up the secret of that affair! There was silence for a moment, and then the Chevalier said, "Her father will not let her go to a nunnery--no, no. Why should he yield to the Church in this?" Bigot shrugged a shoulder. "Not even to hide--shame?" "Liar--ruffian!" said I through my teeth. The Chevalier answered for me: "I would stake my life on her truth and purity." "You forget the mock marriage, dear Chevalier." "It was after the manner of his creed and people." "It was after a manner we all have used at times." "Speak for yourself, your Excellency," was the austere reply. Nevertheless, I could see that the Chevalier was much troubled. "She forgot race, religion, people--all, to spend still hours with a foreign spy in prison," urged Bigot, with damnable point and suggestion. "Hush, sir!" said the Chevalier. "She is a girl once much beloved and ever admired among us. Let not your rancour against the man be spent upon the maid. Nay, more, why should you hate the man so? It is said, your Excellency, that this Moray did not fire the shot that wounded you, but one who has less reason to love you." Bigot smiled wickedly, but said nothing. The Chevalier laid a hand on Bigot's arm. "Will you not oppose the Governor and the bishop? Her fate is sad enough." "I will not lift a finger. There are weightier matters. Let Doltaire, the idler, the Don Amato, the hunter of that fawn, save her from the holy ambush. Tut, tut, Chevalier. Let her go. Your nephew is to marry her sister; let her be swallowed up--a shame behind the veil, the sweet litany of the cloister." The Chevalier's voice set hard as he said in quick reply, "My family honour, Francois Bigot, needs no screen. And if you doubt that, I will give you argument at your pleasure;" so saying, he turned and went back into the chateau. Thus the honest Chevalier kept his word, given to me when I released him from serving me on the St. Lawrence. Bigot came down the steps, smiling detestably, and passed me with no more than a quick look. I made my way cautiously through the streets towards the cathedral, for I owed a duty to the poor soldier who had died in my arms, through whose death I had been able to enter the town.