"And when the clouds come, Monsieur le Vicomte, and shut out the moon,
there is, then, a cessation to destiny?"

"You are not only a poet, Madame," he observed, his fingers straying
over his mustache. "You have eclipsed my metaphor nicely, I will
admit."

"And this preamble leads . . . ?"

"I have something of vital importance to tell you; but it can not be
told here. Will you do me the honor and confidence, Madame, to follow
me to the château?"

"How vital is this information?" the chill in her voice becoming
obvious and distinct.

"I was speaking of destiny, Madame; what I have to say pertinently
concerns yours."

Madame trembled and her brow became moist. "Where do you wish me to go
with you, Monsieur?"

"Only into a deserted council chamber, where, if doubt or fear disturbs
you, you have but to cry to bring the whole regiment tumbling about my
ears."

"Proceed, Monsieur; I am not afraid."

"I go before only to show you the way, Madame."