believe in this excuse; but he suspected some treachery and he
resolved to watch his treasure more carefully than before.

The benediction was given. Without waiting for the end of the "Soecula
soeculorum," the crowd rushed like a torrent to the doors of the

church. Following his usual custom, the old seigneur waited till the
general hurry was over; after which he left his chapel, placing the

duenna and the youngest page, carrying a lantern, before him; then he
gave his arm to his wife and told the other page to follow them.

As he made his way to the lateral door which opened on the west side
of the cloister, through which it was his custom to pass, a stream of

persons detached itself from the flood which obstructed the great
portals, and poured through the side aisle around the old lord and his

party. The mass was too compact to allow him to retrace his steps, and
he and his wife were therefore pushed onward to the door by the

pressure of the multitude behind them. The husband tried to pass out
first, dragging the lady by the arm, but at that instant he was pulled

vigorously into the street, and his wife was torn from him by a
stranger. The terrible hunchback saw at once that he had fallen into a

trap that was cleverly prepared. Repenting himself for having slept,
he collected his whole strength, seized his wife once more by the

sleeve of her gown, and strove with his other hand to cling to the
gate of the church; but the ardor of love carried the day against

jealous fury. The young man took his mistress round the waist, and
carried her off so rapidly, with the strength of despair, that the

brocaded stuff of silk and gold tore noisily apart, and the sleeve
alone remained in the hand of the old man. A roar like that of a lion

rose louder than the shouts of the multitude, and a terrible voice
howled out the words:--

"To me, Poitiers! Servants of the Comte de Saint-Vallier, here! Help!
help!"

And the Comte Aymar de Poitiers, sire de Saint-Vallier, attempted to
draw his sword and clear a space around him. But he found himself

surrounded and pressed upon by forty or fifty gentlemen whom it would
be dangerous to wound. Several among them, especially those of the

highest rank, answered him with jests as they dragged him along the
cloisters.

With the rapidity of lightning the abductor carried the countess into
an open chapel and seated her behind the confessional on a wooden

bench. By the light of the tapers burning before the saint to whom the
chapel was dedicated, they looked at each other for a moment in

silence, clasping hands, and amazed at their own audacity. The
countess had not the cruel courage to reproach the young man for the

boldness to which they owed this perilous and only instant of
happiness.

"Will you fly with me into the adjoining States?" said the young man,
eagerly. "Two English horses are awaiting us close by, able to do

thirty leagues at a stretch."
"Ah!" she cried, softly, "in what corner of the world could you hide a

daughter of King Louis XI.?"
"True," replied the young man, silenced by a difficulty he had not

foreseen.
"Why did you tear me from my husband?" she asked in a sort of terror.

"Alas!" said her lover, "I did not reckon on the trouble I should feel
in being near you, in hearing you speak to me. I have made plans,--two

or three plans,--and now that I see you all seems accomplished."
"But I am lost!" said the countess.

"We are saved!" the young man cried in the blind enthusiasm of his
love. "Listen to me carefully!"

"This will cost me my life!" she said, letting the tears that rolled
in her eyes flow down her cheeks. "The count will kill me,--to-night,

perhaps! But go to the king; tell him the tortures that his daughter
has endured these five years. He loved me well when I was little; he

called me 'Marie-full-of-grace,' because I was ugly. Ah! if he knew
the man to whom he gave me, his anger would be terrible. I have not

dared complain, out of pity for the count. Besides, how could I reach
the king? My confessor himself is a spy of Saint-Vallier. That is why

I have consented to this guilty meeting, to obtain a defender,--some
one to tell the truth to the king. Can I rely on-- Oh!" she cried,

turning pale and interrupting herself, "here comes the page!"
The poor countess put her hands before her face as if to veil it.

"Fear nothing," said the young seigneur, "he is won! You can safely
trust him; he belongs to me. When the count contrives to return for

you he will warn us of his coming. In the confessional," he added, in
a low voice, "is a priest, a friend of mine, who will tell him that he

drew you for safety out of the crowd, and placed you under his own
protection in this chapel. Therefore, everything is arranged to

deceive him."
At these words the tears of the poor woman stopped, but an expression

of sadness settled down on her face.
"No one can deceive him," she said. "To-night he will know all. Save

me from his blows! Go to Plessis, see the king, tell him--" she
hesitated; then, some dreadfulrecollection giving her courage to

confess the secrets of her marriage, she added: "Yes, tell him that to
master me the count bleeds me in both arms--to exhaust me. Tell him

that my husband drags me about by the hair of my head. Say that I am a
prisoner; that--"

Her heart swelled, sobs choked her throat, tears fell from her eyes.
In her agitation she allowed the young man, who was muttering broken

words, to kiss her hands.
"Poor darling! no one can speak to the king. Though my uncle is grand-

master of his archers, I could not gain admission to Plessis. My dear
lady! my beautiful sovereign! oh, how she has suffered! Marie, let

yourself say but two words, or we are lost!"
"What will become of us?" she murmured. Then, seeing on the dark wall

a picture of the Virgin, on which the light from the lamp was falling,
she cried out:--

"Holy Mother of God, give us counsel!"
"To-night," said the young man, "I shall be with you in your room."

"How?" she asked naively.
They were in such great peril that their tenderest words were devoid

of love.
"This evening," he replied, "I shall offer myself as apprentice to

Maitre Cornelius, the king's silversmith. I have obtained a letter of
recommendation to him which will make him receive me. His house is

next to yours. Once under the roof of that old thief, I can soon find
my way to your apartment by the help of a silken ladder."

"Oh!" she said, petrified with horror, "if you love me don't go to
Maitre Cornelius."

"Ah!" he cried, pressing her to his heart with all the force of his
youth, "you do indeed love me!"

"Yes," she said; "are you not my hope? You are a gentleman, and I
confide to you my honor. Besides," she added, looking at him with

dignity, "I am so unhappy that you would never betray my trust. But
what is the good of all this? Go, let me die, sooner than that you

should enter that house of Maitre Cornelius. Do you not know that all
his apprentices--"

"Have been hanged," said the young man, laughing.
"Oh, don't go; you will be made the victim of some sorcery."

"I cannot pay too dearly for the joy of serving you," he said, with a
look that made her drop her eyes.

"But my husband?" she said.
"Here is something to put him to sleep," replied her lover, drawing

from his belt a little vial.
"Not for always?" said the countess, trembling.

For all answer the young seigneur made a gesture of horror.
"I would long ago have defied him to mortalcombat if he were not so

old," he said. "God preserve me from ridding you of him in any other
way."

"Forgive me," said the countess, blushing. "I am cruelly punished for
my sins. In a moment of despair I thought of killing him, and I feared

you might have the same desire. My sorrow is great that I have never
yet been able to confess that wicked thought; but I fear it would be