I would gladly have left the two together, and gone straight into the house.  I was eager now to discharge the errand on which I had come so far; and apart from this I had no liking for the priest or wish to overhear his talk.  His anger, however, was so patent, and the rudeness with which he treated Madame d’O so pronounced that I felt I could not leave her with him unless she should dismiss me.  So I stood patiently enough—­and awkwardly enough too, I daresay—­by the door while they talked on in subdued tones.  Nevertheless, I felt heartily glad when at length, the discussion ending Madame came back to me.  I offered her my arm to help her over the wooden foot of the side gate.  She laid her hand on it, but she stood still.

“M. de Caylus,” she said; and at that stopped.  Naturally I looked at her, and our eyes met.  Hers brown and beautiful, shining in the light of the lamp overhead looked into mine.  Her lips were half parted, and one fair tress of hair had escaped from her hood.  “M. de Caylus, will you do me a favour,” she resumed, softly, “a favour for which I shall always be grateful?”

I sighed.  “Madame,” I said earnestly, for I felt the solemnity of the occasion, “I swear that in ten minutes, if the task I now have in hand be finished I will devote my life to your service.  For the present—­”

“Well, for the present?  But it is the present I want, Master Discretion.”

“I must see M. de Pavannes!  I am pledged to it,” I ejaculated.

“To see M. de Pavannes?”

“Yes.”

I was conscious that she was looking at me with eyes of doubt, almost of suspicion.

“Why?  Why?” she asked with evident surprise.  “You have restored—­and nearly frightened me to death in doing it—­his wife to her home; what more do you want with him, most valiant knight-errant?”

“I must see him,” I said firmly.  I would have told her all and been thankful, but the priest was within hearing—­or barely out of it; and I had seen too much pass between him and Bezers to be willing to say anything before him.

“You must see M. de Pavannes?” she repeated, gazing at me.

“I must,” I replied with decision.

“Then you shall.  That is exactly what I am going to help you to do,” she exclaimed.  “He is not here.  That is what is the matter.  He went out at nightfall seeking news of his wife, and crossed the river, the Coadjutor says, to the Faubourg St. Germain.  Now it is of the utmost importance that he should return before morning—­return here.”

“But is he not here?” I said, finding all my calculations at fault.  “You are sure of it, Madame?”

“Quite sure,” she answered rapidly.  “Your brothers will have by this time discovered the fact.  Now, M. de Caylus, Pavannes must be brought here before morning, not only for his wife’s sake—­ though she will be wild with anxiety—­but also—­”

“I know,” I said, eagerly interrupting her, “for his own too!  There is a danger threatening him.”