"Margot," she blubbered, bursting into tears.

He dropped her chin, and turned away with a gesture of disgust.

"Get you gone," he bade her harshly. "Get you back to the kitchen
or the onion-field from which they took you."

And the girl, scarce believing her good fortune, departed with a
speed that bordered on the ludicrous. Tressan had naught to say,
no word to stay her with; pretence, he realized, was vain.

"Now, my Lord Seneschal," quoth Garnache, arms akimbo, feet planted
wide, and eyes upon the wretched man's countenance, "what may you
have to say to me?"

Tressan shifted his position; he avoided the other's glance; he was
visibly trembling, and when presently he spoke it was in faltering
accents.

"It - it - seems, monsieur, that - ah - that I have been the victim
of some imposture."

"It had rather seemed to me that the victim chosen was myself."

"Clearly we were both victims," the Seneschal rejoined. Then he
proceeded to explain. "I went to Condillac yesterday as you desired
me, and after a stormy interview with the Marquise I obtained from
her - as I believed - the person of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye.
You see I was not myself acquainted with the lady."