"I feel more than ever constrained to undeceive you upon this point," Lord Wentworth responded with imperturbable coolness. "I can give you the explanation of this false alarm in two words, nor can I conceive how Lord Derby allowed himself to be deceived by it." "Let us see," said Madame de Castro, intensely eager for light upon a subject upon which her whole life seemed to be concentrated. "Very well, Madame," continued Lord Wentworth; "one of two things has happened: either Messieurs de Guise and de Nevers, who are, I admit, skilful and prudent commanders, mean to revictual Ardres and Boulogne, and are on their way thither with the troops whose presence has been announced, or else they are making a feint against Calais for the purpose of calming the fears of Ham and St. Quentin, and mean to try to take one of those towns by surprise, by suddenly retracing their steps." "But how do you know, Monsieur," rejoined Madame de Castro, with more rashness than discretion,--"how do you know, pray, that their feint has not been made against Ham or St. Quentin, in order to surprise Calais more effectually?" Fortunately she had to deal with an immovable conviction, rooted upon national and personal pride as well. "I have already had the honor of assuring you, Madame," said Lord Wentworth, disdainfully, "that Calais is one of those places that cannot possibly be surprised or taken; before it can even be approached, Fort Ste. Agathe must be carried, and the fort of Nieullay as well. To carry all these posts would take a fortnight at least of unvarying success; and during those fifteen days England would be warned of the danger, and would have ample time--yes, fifteen times what would be necessary--to pour forth all her might to rescue her precious city. Take Calais! Ah, I cannot help laughing at the bare idea!" Madame de Castro, wounded to the quick, bitterly retorted,-- "The source of my sorrow is to you a source of delight. How can you suppose that our souls could ever understand each other?" "But, Madame," cried Lord Wentworth, growing pale, "I only wished to destroy those delusive imaginings of yours which keep us asunder. I wished to prove to you as clearly as the sun shines that you are feeding upon chimeras, and that the French court must have gone mad before such an attempt as you are dreaming of could ever be imagined there." "There is such a thing as heroic madness, my Lord," said Diane, proudly; "and I am sure that there are great-souled men too, whose love of glory--nay, whose simple devotion would prevent them from drawing back from such sublime extravagance." "Oh, yes!--Monsieur d'Exmès, for example!" cried Wentworth, carried away by jealous fury which he could no longer restrain. "Who told you of that name?" asked Madame de Castro, in amazement.