Listening at the door for a moment, I suddenly and softly turned
the handle and entered, to see the good Mother with a panel drawn
in the wall before her, and her face set to it. She stepped back as
I shut the door and turned the key in the lock. I put my finger to
my lips, for she seemed about to cry out.

"Hush!" said I. "I watch for those who love her. I am here to
serve her--and you."

"You are a servant of the Seigneur's?" she said, the alarm
passing out of her face.

"I served the Seigneur, good Mother," I answered, "and I would
lay down my life for ma'm'selle."

"You would hear?" she asked, pointing to the panel.

I nodded.

"You speak French not like a Breton or Norman," she added. "What
is your province?"

"I am an Auvergnian."

She said no more, but motioned to me, enjoining silence also by
a sign, and I stood with her beside the panel. Before it was a
piece of tapestry which was mere gauze in one place, and I could
see through and hear perfectly. The room we were in was at least
four feet higher than the other, and we looked down on its