“She is not what you think,” I said.

The duchess drew herself up to her full height, making the most of her inches.

“Really, Mr. Aycon,” said she, “you must forgive me if I do not discuss that.”  And she paused, and then added, with a curl of her lip:  “You and my husband can settle that between you;” and with a motion of her hand she signed to me to leave her.

Looking back on the matter, I do not know that I had any reason to be ashamed or to feel myself in any sort a traitor to the duchess.  Yet some such feelings I had as I backed out of the room leaving her standing there in unwonted immobility, her eyes haughty and cold, her lips set, her grace congealed to stateliness, her gay agility frozen to proud stiffness.

And I left her thus standing in obedience to the potent yet still but half-understood spell which drew me from her side and would not suffer me to rest, while the Duke of Saint-Maclou was working his devices in the valley beneath the town of Avranches.

CHAPTER XVI.

The Inn near Pontorson.

The moment I found myself outside the house—­and I must confess that, for reasons which I have indicated, it was a relief to me to find myself there—­I hastened to old Jean’s cottage.  The old man was eating his breakfast; his stolidity was unshaken by the events of the night; he manifested nothing beyond a mild satisfaction that the two rascals had justified his opinion of them, and a resigned regret that Pierre had not shared the fate of Lafleur.  He told me that his inquiries after Marie Delhasse had been fruitless, and added that he supposed there would be a police inquiry into the attempted robbery and the consequent death of Lafleur; indeed he was of opinion that the duke had gone to Avranches to arrange for it as much as to prosecute his search for Marie.  I seized the opportunity to suggest that I should be a material witness, and urged him to give me one of the duke’s horses to carry me to Avranches.  He grumbled at my request, declaring that I should end by getting him into trouble; but a few francs overcame his scruples, and he provided me with a sturdy animal, which I promised to bring or send back in the course of the day.

Great as my impatience was, I was compelled to spend the first hour of my arrival at Avranches under the doctor’s hands.  He discovered to my satisfaction that the bullet had not lodged in my arm and that my hurt was no more than a flesh-wound, which would, if all went well, heal in a few days.  He enjoined perfect rest and freedom from worry and excitement.  I thanked him, bowed myself out, mounted again, and rode to the hotel, where I left my horse with instructions for its return to its owner.  Then, at my best speed, I hastened down the hill again, reached the grounds of the convent, and approached the door.  Perfect rest and freedom from excitement were unattainable until I had learned whether Marie Delhasse was still safe within the old white walls which I saw before me; for, though I could not trace how the change in me had come, nor track its growth, I knew now that if she were there the walls held what was of the greatest moment to me in all the world, and that if she were not there the world was a hell to me until I found her.