"Lucky we came up the lane when we did, eh, Félix?" M. Étienne said.
"But, Monsieur, I have not asked you yet what madness sent you
traversing this back passage at two in the morning."
"I might ask you that, Étienne."
The young man hesitated a bare moment before he answered:
"I am just come from serenading Mlle. de Montluc."
A shade fell over Monsieur's radiance. At his look, M. Étienne cried
out:
"I've told you I'm no Leaguer! Mayenne offered me mademoiselle if I
would come over. I refused. Last night he sent me word that he would
kill me as a common nuisance if I sought to see her. That was why I
tried."
"Monsieur," I cried, curiosity mastering me, "was she in the window?"
He shook his head, his eyes on his father' face.
"Étienne," Monsieur said slowly, "can't you see that Mlle. de Montluc is
not for you?"
"I shall never see it, Monsieur. The first article in my creed says she
is for me. And I'll have her yet, for all Mayenne."
"Then, mordieu, we'll steal her together!"
"You! You'll help me?"
"Why, dear son," Monsieur explained, "it broke my heart to think of you
in the League. I could not bear that my son should help a Spaniard to
the throne of France, or a Lorrainer either. But if it is a question of
stealing the lady--well, I never prosed about prudence yet, thank God!"