“We find ourselves in a strange place, Master Richard,” said Seth, surveying the room.

“We may come to stranger ones before we see Virginia again,” was the answer.

“Ay, that’s true; and there’s not a certainty that we shall ever see Virginia again,” said Seth.  “I took the precaution to say farewell to all the old corners of Broadmead before I left.”

“It’s a fool’s game to step too far into the future.  A wise man never buys his own coffin,” laughed Barrington.  “We are in luck.”

“I’m glad you think so, Master Richard.  I see plenty of danger, but little luck.  It was to help the people we came, and here we are at Beauvais to serve an aristocrat.  Our friends the people are not likely to forgive us easily.”

“There is a woman to help, Seth.”

“I wonder how many excellent schemes a woman has brought to nothing.”

“And that is why I say we are in luck,” said Barrington, taking no notice of the comment.  “How are we to get audience with this woman?  The question has puzzled me upon the journey.  We are met with the news that there is to be a masked ball at the chateau.  Could we have arrived at a more opportune time?”

“You will go to the chateau?”

“Of course.  I shall find some excuse and get a disguise that best fits it.  Every one in Beauvais must be able to give me some description by which I may know Mademoiselle St. Clair.  The rest will be easy.”

“This faith of youth is very wonderful,” said Seth.

“Not more remarkable than your forebodings,” Barrington returned.  “You have not always been so quick to talk of danger.”

“Maybe it’s the different air.  I prefer the breeze that comes off Chesapeake Bay to that of these hills, and there’s a devil of depression in this cockloft, it seems to me.”

“Come out of it, then.  Hunger and thirst are at the bottom of your croaking.  We will go eat and drink and gather news.”

“And at this ball, Master Richard, see that you think more of the readiness of your arms than your grace in a dance.”

Barrington laughed as he descended the narrow stairs, but he was not heedless of his companion’s warnings.  He was fully alive to the danger he was in, and if the truth must be told, was not particularly pleased to find himself in Beauvais.  He would far rather have been in Paris.  The romantic element in this unexpected adventure did not greatly appeal to him.  He had crossed the ocean to help an oppressed people; he was full of enthusiasm for a cause, so much an enthusiast that the two braggart representatives of the people with whom he had come in contact at Tremont had in no way disillusioned him.  Refuse must needs be cast on the wave crests of a revolution; but there was also Lafayette.  He was the people’s true representative, and Barrington longed to be at his side to help him.  He had promised to deliver a message, believing that he was undertaking a comparatively