I looked that way too.  A solitary horseman was descending the steep track from the hills.

“Mademoiselle!” cried the Vidame suddenly.  We all looked up.  His tone was such that the colour fled from Kit’s face.  There was something in his voice she had never heard in any voice before—­something that to a woman was like a blow.  “Mademoiselle,” he snarled, “is expecting news from Cahors, from her lover.  I have the honour to congratulate M. de Pavannes on his conquest.”

Ah! he had guessed it!  As the words fell on the sleepy silence, an insult in themselves, I sprang to my feet, amazed and angry, yet astounded by his quickness of sight and wit.  He must have recognized the Pavannes badge at that distance.  “M. le Vidame,” I said indignantly—­Catherine was white and voiceless—­“M. le Vidame—­” but there I stopped and faltered stammering.  For behind him I could see Croisette; and Croisette gave me no sign of encouragement or support.

So we stood face to face for a moment; the boy and the man of the world, the stripling and the ROUE.  Then the Vidame bowed to me in quite a new fashion.  “M.  Anne de Caylus desires to answer for M. de Pavannes?” he asked smoothly; with a mocking smoothness.

I understood what he meant.  But something prompted me—­Croisette said afterwards that it was a happy thought, though now I know the crisis to have been less serious than he fancied to answer, “Nay, not for M. de Pavannes.  Rather for my cousin.”  And I bowed.  “I have the honour on her behalf to acknowledge your congratulations, M. le Vidame.  It pleases her that our nearest neighbour should also be the first outside the family to wish her well.  You have divined truly in supposing that she will shortly be united to M. de Pavannes.”

I suppose—­for I saw the giant’s colour change and his lip quiver as I spoke—­that his previous words had been only a guess.  For a moment the devil seemed to be glaring through his eyes; and he looked at Marie and me as a wild animal at its keepers.  Yet he maintained his cynical politeness in part.  “Mademoiselle desires my congratulations?” he said, slowly, labouring with each word it seemed.  “She shall have them on the happy day.  She shall certainly have them then.  But these are troublous times.  And Mademoiselle’s betrothed is I think a Huguenot, and has gone to Paris.  Paris—­well, the air of Paris is not good for Huguenots, I am told.”

I saw Catherine shiver; indeed she was on the point of fainting, I broke in rudely, my passion getting the better of my fears.  “M. de Pavannes can take care of himself, believe me,” I said brusquely.

“Perhaps so,” Bezers answered, his voice like the grating of steel on steel.  “But at any rate this will be a memorable day for Mademoiselle.  The day on which she receives her first congratulations—­she will remember it as long as she lives!  Oh, yes, I will answer for that, M. Anne,” he said looking brightly at one and another of us, his eyes more oblique than ever, “Mademoiselle will remember it, I am sure!”