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are reduced； and yet who desires to spend the little that he has to
best advantage； he levelled the weapon boldly at the advancing
Marquis； and pulled the trigger。 But Bellecour was an old campaigner；
and by an old campaigner's trick he saved himself at the last moment。
At sight of that levelled barrel he pulled his horse suddenly on to
its haunches； and received the charge in the animal's belly。 With
a shriek of pain the horse sought to recover its feet； then tumbled
forward hurling the Marquis from the saddle。 La Boulaye had an
inspiration to fling himself upon the old roue and seek with his
hands to kill him before they made an end of himself。 But ere he
could move to execute his design a horseman was almost on top of him。
He received a stunning blow on the head。 The daylight faded in his
eyes； he felt a sensation of sinking； and a reverberating darkness
engulfed him。
CHAPTER III
THE WORD OF BELLECOUR
When La Boulaye recovered consciousness he was lying on his back in
the middle of the courtyard of the Chateau de Bellecour。 From a
great stone balcony above； a little group； of which Mademoiselle de
Bellecour was the centre； observed the scene about the captive； who
was being resuscitated that he might fittingly experience the
Seigneur's vengeance。
She had returned from the morning's affair in the park with a
conscience not altogether easy。 To have stood by whilst her father
had struck Caron； and moreover； to have done so without any sense of
horror； or even of regret； was a matter in which she asked herself
whether she had done well。 Certainly La Boulaye had presumed
unpardonably in speaking to her as he had spoken； and for his
presumption it was fitting that he should be punished。 Had she
interfered she must have seemed to sympathise； and thus the lesson
might have suffered in salutariness。 And yet Caron La Boulaye was
a man of most excellent exterior； and； when passion had roused him
out of his restraint and awkwardness； of most ardent and eloquent
address。 The very sombreness that … be it from his mournful garments
or from a mind of thoughtful habit … seemed to envelop him was but
an additional note of poetry in a personality which struck her now
as eminently poetical。 In the seclusion of her own chamber； as she
recalled the burning words and the fall of her father's whip upon
the young man's pale face； she even permitted herself to sigh。 Had
he but been of her own station； he had been such a man as she would
have taken pride in being wooed by。 As it was … she halted there
and laughed disdainfully； yet with never so faint a note of regret。
It was absurd！ She was Mademoiselle de Bellecour； and he her
father's secretary； educated； if you will … aye； and beyond his
station … but a vassal withal； and very humbly born。 Yes； it was
absurd； she told herself again： the eagle may not mate with the
sparrow。
And when presently she had come from her chamber； she had been
greeted with the story of a rebellion in the village； and an
attempted assassination of her father。 The ringleader； she was
told； had been brought to the Chateau； and he was even then in the
courtyard and about to be hanged by the Marquis。 Curious to behold
this unfortunate； she had stepped out on to the balcony where already
an idle group had formed。 Inexpressible had been her shock upon
seeing him that lay below； his white face upturned to the heavens；
his eyes closed。
〃Is he dead？〃 she asked； when presently she had overcome her feelings。
〃Not yet Mademoiselle；〃 answered the graceful Chevalier de Jacquelin；
toying with his solitaire。 〃Your father is bringing him to life that
he may send him back to death。〃
And then she heard her father's voice behind her。 The Marquis had
stepped out on to the balcony to ascertain whether La Boulaye had
yet regained consciousness。
〃He seems to be even now recovering；〃 said someone。
〃Ah； you are there； Suzanne；〃 cried Bellecour。 〃You see your friend
the secretary there。 He has chosen to present himself in a new role
to…day。 From being my servant； it seems that he would constitute
himself my murderer。〃
However unfilial it might be； she could not stifle a certain sympathy
for this young man。 She imagined that his rebellion； whatever shape
it had assumed； had been provoked by that weal upon his face； and it
seemed to her then that he had been less than a man had he not
attempted to exact some reparation for the hurt the whip had
inflicted at once upon his body and his soul。
〃But what is it that he has done； Monsieur？〃 she asked； seeking more
than the scant information which so far she had received。
〃Enough； at least； to justify my hanging him；〃 answered Bellecour
grimly。 〃He sought to withstand my authority； he incited the
peasants of Bellecour to withstand it； he has killed Blaise； and he
would have killed me but that I preferred to let him kill my horse。〃
〃In what way did he seek to withstand your authority！〃 she persisted。
He stared at her； half surprised； half angry。
〃What doers the manner of it signify？〃 he asked impatiently。 〃Is
not the fact enough？ Is it not enough that Blaise is dead； and that
I have had a narrow escape； at his hands？〃
〃Insolent hound that he is！〃 put in Madame la Marquise … a fleshly
lady monstrously coiffed。 〃If we allow such men as thus to live
in France our days are numbered。〃
〃They say that you are going to hang him；〃 said Suzanne； heedless
of her mother's words； and there was the faintest note of horror in
her voice。
〃They are mistaken。 I am not。〃
〃You are mot？〃 cried the Marquise。 〃But what； then； do you intend
to do？〃
〃To keep my word； madame；〃 he answered her。 〃I promised that
canaille that if he ever came within the grounds of Bellecour I
would have him flogged to death。 That is what I propose。〃
〃Father；〃 gasped Suzanne； in horror； a horror that was echoed by
the other three or four ladies present。 But the Marquise only
laughed。
〃He will be； richly served；〃 she approved； with a sage nod of her
pumpkin…like head…dress … 〃most richly served。〃
A great pity arose now in the heart of Mademoiselle； as her father
went below that he might carry out his barbarous design。 She was
deaf to the dainty trifles which the most elegant Chevalier de
Jacquelin was murmuring into heir ear。 She stood； a tall； queenly
figure； at the balcony's parapet and watched the preparations that
were being made。
She heard her father's harshly…voiced commands。 She saw them
literally tear the clothes from the unfortunate secretary's back；
and lash him … naked to the waist … to the pump that stood by the
horse…trough at the far end of the yard。 His body was now hidden
from her sight； but his head appeared surmounting the pillar of the
pump； his chin seeming to rest upon its summit； and his face was
towards her。 At his side stood a powerful knave armed with a
stout； leather…thonged whip。
〃How many strokes； Monseigneur？〃 she heard the man inquire。
〃How many？〃 echoed the Marquise。 〃Do I know how many it will take
to make an end of him？ Beat him to death； man。 Allons！
Set about it。〃
She saw the man uncoil his lash and step fo