“And there are enough of these within the limits of our own household,” D’Aulney replied; “though you are but too ready to extend your benevolent exertions beyond; you were, for instance, most zealous, the saints only know why, to save the life of that scoundrel soldier of La Tour’s, when he lay sick here;—­I would that he had died!—­and, trusting to your commendations, and his apparent honesty, I raised him to my favor, and gave him a post, which he has but now most basely betrayed.  Fool, that I was, to think he could have served with such a master, and not bring with him the taint of treachery!”

“Poor Antoine!” said Madame d’Aulney, equivocally; “he made fair professions, and the most suspicious could not have doubted his sincerity. You did not then object to my rendering him those slight services, which, you thought, might attach him more strongly to your cause; and I could not think he would repay me with ingratitude.  But I marvel that you, who are so habitually wary and discerning, should have been deceived by his pretensions; the friend, or servant, who has once proved perfidious, is unworthy any future confidence.”

D’Aulney started, as if stung by the last remark, and looking keenly on her, replied,

“He is not the only traitor whom I have fostered and protected; some other hand has been busy in this work, and, though it were the dearest that I have on earth, my wrath should not abate one tittle of its justice.”

“It was, indeed, a bold adventure!” said Mad. d’Aulney, with admirable composure; “but if, as I am told, a priest gained access to the prisoner through Antoine’s intervention, they would scarcely deem it necessary to run the hazard of employing any other agency; and let us not be guilty of injustice, by indulging suspicions of the innocent.”

“I have closely questioned the father confessor on this subject,” he replied, thoughtfully; “and I learn that a stranger, one of his own crafty order, yesterday visited him; and that soon after leaving his apartment, he was observed in close conference with the wretch Antoine; but the guard denies admitting any one through the gate at a later hour; though a priest, or, as is now supposed, the prisoner in his garb, passed out after midnight, with the deserter, who gave some plausible excuse for departing at that unseasonable hour.”

“The men are terrified by your anger,” said Mad. d’Aulney, “and probably contradict each other in their natural eagerness to justify themselves; you permitted the priests to enter freely, and no one can be blamed for obeying your commands, which did not prohibit a stranger under the sacred habit.”

“The confessor’s illness,” resumed D’Aulney, with bitterness, “has gathered all the priests in the land around him; and this goat, who entered with the herd, is doubtless a creature of La Tour’s; but, beshrew me, were the holy father in the last extremity, I would not admit another, without a scrutiny which no artifice could escape.”