I stood for a moment gazing across the water at the
lighted windows of the ch?teau, wondering which of those eyes that looked
out upon the night might be that of Yvonne's chamber.
Then, bidding Michelot await me, or follow did I not return in half an
hour, I turned and moved away towards the chapel.
There is a clearing in front of the little white edifice--which rather than
a temple is but a monument to the martyr who is said to have perished on
that spot in the days before Clovis.
As I advanced into the centre of this open patch of ground, and stood clear
of the black silhouettes of the trees, cast about me by the moon, two men
appeared to detach themselves from the side wall of the chapel, and
advanced to meet me.
Albeit they were wrapped in their cloaks--uptilted behind by their
protruding scabbards--it was not difficult to tell the tall figure and
stately bearing of St. Auban and the mincing gait of Vilmorin.
I doffed my hat in a grave salutation, which was courteously returned.
"I trust, Messieurs, that I have not kept you waiting?"
"I was on the point of expressing that very hope, Monsieur," returned St.
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