out a woman's form standing in a doorway under the gallery. A
second figure, which I took to be that of the servant I had seen
at the inn, loomed uncertainly beside her.

I bowed in silence. My teeth were chattering. I was faint
without feigning, and felt a kind of terror, hard to explain, at
the sound of this woman's voice.

'One of our people has told me about you, she continued, speaking
out of the darkness. 'I am sorry that this has happened to you
here, but I am afraid that you were indiscreet.'

'I take all the blame, Madame,' I answered humbly. 'I ask only
shelter for the night.'

'The time has not yet come when we cannot give our friends that!'
she answered with noble courtesy. 'When it does, Monsieur, we
shall be homeless ourselves.'

I shivered, looking anywhere but at her; for, if the truth be
told, I had not sufficiently pictured this scene of my arrival--I
had not foredrawn its details; and now I took part in it I felt a
miserable meanness weigh me down. I had never from the first
liked the work, but I had had no choice, and I had no choice now.
Luckily, the guise in which I came, my fatigue, and wound were a
sufficient mask, or I should have incurred suspicion at once.
For I am sure that if ever in this world a brave man wore a hang-
dog air, or Gil de Berault fell below himself, it was then and
there--on Madame de Cocheforet's threshold, with her welcome
sounding in my ears.