that astonishment was so great when the man recognized the woman that he threw up his hands and stepped backward. as he did so his sodden cloak, which he had gathered closely around him, opened and fell. the next instant his hand tore his hat from his head and he stood revealed in the full light of the candle.

"marteau!" exclaimed the woman in a surprise and dismay equal to that of the man she confronted.

her arm that held the pistol dropped weakly to her side. with the other hand she drew the peignoir about her, a vivid crimson wave rushed over her whole body. to surprise a man, a thief, in her room at night, was one thing; to confront the man she loved in such a guise was another. her heart rose in her throat. for a moment she thought she would have fainted.

"you! you!" she choked out brokenly. "mon dieu!"

"mademoiselle," began the man desperately, his confusion and dismay growing with every flying moment, "i——"

"what do you here," she went on impetuously, finding voice, "in my bedroom at night? i thought you——"

"for god's sake hear me. i came to——" and then he stopped lamely and in agonized embarrassment.

"for what did you come?" she insisted.

"mademoiselle," he said, throwing his head up, "i cannot tell you. but when i was stationed here before this was the bedroom of the commanding-officer. i supposed it was so still. i had not the faintest idea that you—that it was——"

"and what would you do in the bedroom of the commanding-officer?" asked the woman, forgetting for the moment the strangeness of the situation in her anxiety to solve the problem.

"and that, i repeat, i cannot tell."

"not even to me, who——" she stopped in turn.

"yes, yes, go on," urged the young man, stepping nearer to her. "not even to you who——"

"who espoused your cause in the hall this very night, who befriended you," she went on rather lamely and inadequately having checked herself in time.

"oh," said the young officer in great disappointment, "that?"

"yes."

"you see, the governor——"

"did you wish to kill him?"

"mademoiselle!" he protested. "i swear to you that i would not harm him for the world but i——"

"are you in need? he offered you money. i have a few resources."

"for god's sake, mademoiselle," interposed the officer desperately, but she went resolutely on.

"whatever i have is yours. see——" she stripped rings from her fingers and proffered them—"take them."

"mademoiselle," said the young man sadly, "you wrong me."

"well, if it was not for murder or for gain, for what cause did you take so frightful a risk?"

"is there no other motive, mademoiselle, that makes men risk their lives than revenge or greed?"

"what do you mean?"

"love."

"but you said you did not know this was my room!"

the words came from her impetuously and before she thought she realized when it was too late.

"ah, mademoiselle, love of woman is a great passion. i know it only too well, too sadly. but it is not the only love."

"have you another in your heart?" asked the countess with a sinking in her own.

"love of honor."

"i don't understand."

"and yet i know that you are the very soul of honor yourself."

"i thank you, but——"

"mademoiselle," said the young man, coming to a sudden resolution, "appearances are frightfully against me. that i should be here, in your room, at this hour of the night, under the circumstances, condemns me utterly in your opinion, especially as i have offered no adequate explanation. i am about to throw myself on your mercy, to trust to your honor."

"you shall not trust in vain, monsieur."

"i know that. i trusted to your honor in the château d'aumenier and you did not fail me then."

"nor will i now."

"will you give me your word not to reveal what i tell you, and not to make use of the knowledge i communicate, until i give you leave?"

"does it concern the honor or the welfare of those i love?"

"you mean that englishman?"

"i do not love—i mean the marquis, my uncle."

"it does not," said the young man, noting with throbbing heart the broken sentence.

"then i give my promise. speak."

"i came here to conceal something, mademoiselle."

"what?"

"an emblem."

"yours?"

"the emperor's."

"you mean——"

"the eagle of the fifth-regiment-of-the-line."

"why here?"

"it is a long story. i brought it back, having fished it out of the river aube, where it had lain since that day——"

"when i thought you killed," said the young woman, her hand pressed to her heart.

"and were you sorry?"

"sorry? i—— but go on."

"i showed it to the officers of the regiment tonight at major lestoype's quarters. we were discovered. the matter was reported to your uncle. rather than give up the eagle i said that i would hide it."

"and why here?"

"because being as i thought the quarters of the commanding-officer it would be the last place in grenoble where it would be sought."

"and where did you hide it?"

"back of one of the drawers in the cupboard yonder."

"and how did you know of the place?"

"i was stationed here when i first joined the regiment. the château was untenanted. i rambled all over it. i explored its nooks and corners. i discovered that secret hiding place by chance and now the eagle is there."

"and there it shall remain until it is discovered or until you give me leave to produce it," said the girl firmly.

"i have your promise?"

"you know well that i shall keep it."

"i thank you, mademoiselle. twice you have saved my life and now, what is more to me than life, the emblem of my faith as a soldier, the honor of my regiment."

"but why keep it, this eagle, at all," asked the girl, "and run this risk?"

"it may be needed again."

"but by whom?"

"the emperor."

"the name is forbid."

"but the man is not."

"ah, you think he will return?"

"i do."

"and when?"

"mademoiselle has all my secrets. i am in her power absolutely. why keep anything from her?"

"why, indeed?" assented the woman, thrilling to the acknowledgment of her power over the man she loved as any woman would.

"when the violets bloom again," said the young man, bowing. "now, mademoiselle, i am at your service," he resumed as she stared at him.

"at my service? what do you mean?"

"you have caught me here in your room. you have only to call out to summon assistance. i shall be removed from your pathway forever."

"but the eagle?"

"i shall find means before i die to tell someone where to look for it if it should be needed."

"and i am to condemn you to death?"

"why not?" said the young man. "i only lived to bring it back. i never dreamed that i was to have the happiness of seeing you again."

"happiness? this anguish?" murmured the young woman in daring self-revelation.

she had forgot the hour, her dress, the strangeness of the situation, the awful impropriety of it all, the possibility of discovery. she only saw the man she loved. she saw how he loved her. she hung upon his words, and would fain hear more—more!

"my god!" he responded with a sort of fierce pride that was almost arrogant. "although i was born a peasant, mademoiselle, not the finest gentleman in france or england could love you as i do. yet it is impossible for you to love me now that the emperor is no longer here. your uncle would never consent. you, yourself, love that english gentleman. why give thought to marteau? summon assistance, deliver me up and remember me as one who loved you with all the fervor of his heart, or forget me, if you can."

"i would not have you die," said the woman, shuddering. "god forbid."

"it is best so. life holds nothing for me now."

"but if the violets bloom again?" asked the other.

"ah!" exclaimed the man, throwing up his hands and drawing a long breath. "then!"

"how came you here, monsieur?"

"by that window there. there is a ladder without. it reaches most of the way. i am a good climber. the ivy——"

"go as you came. none shall be the wiser."

"to you always the disposition of my life, mademoiselle," said marteau simply. "i obey your command. farewell. it is but a postponement, anyway," he added as he turned away. "i can never escape from grenoble. they will seize me sooner or later and——"

"stay!" she cried.

moved by an unaccountable impulse the girl took a step nearer to him. she loosened her clutch upon her garment and held out her hands to him.

"if it is to be farewell," she said tenderly, "know that i do not love that english captain, no, and that. i——"

he seized her hand and covered it with kisses.

"i can die with better grace now," he said at last.

not daring to trust himself further he turned to the window again. as he put his hand on the lock of the casement he heard shouts and cries outside, he saw torches. escape that way was barred. the whole castle seemed suddenly to awake. he realized it all in a moment. he had been traced there. in another minute he would be discovered in the countess's room at that hour of the morning. he turned swiftly to the dismayed girl.

"they are there," he said. "escape is cut off."

steps and voices resounded in the corridor.

"quick," she said, "the closet yonder—you can hide."

she understood the peril as well as he.

"and bring disgrace upon you when they caught me? never!"

"marteau, for god's sake, i love you," said the woman agonizingly. "i cannot——"

she stretched out her hands to him again. very lovely she looked, the peignoir falling from her white shoulders, the soft candle-light illuminating and yet concealing in its vague shadows the beauty of face and figure. marteau did not dare to dwell upon that. he must act and instantly. he rushed toward the woman. he caught her by the hand. he even shook her a little.

"shriek," he whispered in her ear.

he picked up the pistol from the bed upon which she had thrown it and pointing it upward pulled the trigger. startled by his utterly unexpected action, the meaning of which she could not fathom, she did scream loudly. the next instant the door was thrown open and into the room half clad, sword in hand, burst the marquis. with him were sir gervaise yeovil and the young captain, and attending them were servants and guards bearing lights.

the marquis stared from his niece back to the young officer.

"my god!" he exclaimed. "is it you?"

marteau could only bow. he had a few seconds to make up his mind, a few seconds to decide upon the role he must play. well, his life was certainly forfeit, his reputation he would also give for hers. any explanation that he could make would be disbelieved unless, of course, he produced the eagle, which was not to be thought of. failing the eagle the more he endeavored to account for his presence the more deeply would he involve the woman he loved.

"i find you here, you that i treated almost like a gentleman, who, i thought, nearly measured up to the title, in my niece's room at this hour of the morning," continued the enraged old man. "laure, has he—has he harmed you?"

"you came too quickly, monsieur," answered marteau, himself, giving the young woman time to recover herself. "you heard the pistol shot." he threw the weapon from him. "we were struggling. it went off and——"

"you damned low-born coward," gritted out the english officer, stepping toward him furious with anger.

"steady, frank. there is something strange about this," said sir gervaise gloomily, catching his son by the arm. "he is no coward. that i'll warrant."

"but to seek entry into a woman's bed-chamber!" continued frank furiously. "if you were a gentleman i'd——"

"that 'almost,'" said marteau, "saves me in this instance."

"i feel this action almost as if it had been my own son, had god blessed me with one," said the old marquis, slowly recovering his self-command. "a loyal marteau, a thief, a despoiler of women! why, she knelt to you in the hall. she raised her voice in your defense, and now you—you——" his fingers twitched. "'the count d'aumenier,'" he added in bittery mockery. "you could not bear the title if it had been left in your hand. i shall have you branded as a thief in the morning and——"

"my uncle," said the woman, "he——"

"mademoiselle," interposed marteau sharply, resolved to protect her at all hazards, "is not my case black enough without further testimony from you? i beseech you to be silent."

"speak, laure," said the old marquis. "if you have anything to say which will make his punishment surer and harder, i charge you to say it."

"nothing, nothing," answered the poor young woman. "oh, if ever a woman's soul was tortured——"

"you tortured her, did you?" cried the englishman, struggling in his father's arms. "i once thought of meeting you in the field—you—you! i would like to strangle you with my bare hands."

"it is just. i honor monsieur for his rage. it is true, i love the woman, and——"

"is this the way a gentleman shows his affection?" roared out the english captain.

"monsieur forgets that i am almost, not quite, a gentleman."

"and there is another score we have to settle with you," cried the marquis. "that cursed eagle—where is it?"

"before i sought mademoiselle," said marteau, "i placed it in safety and in such keeping as will watch over it. you will never find it. it will only be produced when"—he stopped—"when the violets bloom again."

"what is this damned nonsense about flowers i hear everywhere?" burst out sir gervaise.

"well, monsieur," said the marquis, "it will be produced before that time, or when the violets do bloom they will find some red soil out of which to spring."

"you mean——"

"as i live i will have you court-martialed in the morning and shot for high treason. i stand for the king, for the ancient laws of france. i will have no paltering with traitors, and i am more inclined to deal swiftly and summarily with you since to treason you add theft and this attempt upon a woman. produce that eagle, or you die."

"i must die, then," said the young man.

"by heaven," said sir gervaise; looking keenly at the officer, "there is more in this than i can understand. give me leave, my lord," he turned to marteau. "i have liked you always. i would befriend you now. i do not believe in appearances always. can you not explain?"

"sir," said marteau, "i am grateful to find one here who still believes——" he stopped. "the circumstances speak for themselves. i love mademoiselle. i was mad. i came here, i——"

"gentlemen," said the marquis, "let us withdraw. it is scandalous that we should be here under such circumstances. you, sir," he turned to marteau, "this way."

the poor countess had stood in agony and despair. marteau did not look at her. he bent his head low as he passed her. two soldiers of the guard grasped him by the arms, the rest closed about him.

"go, gentlemen. i will see you presently," said the marquis. "one of you servants yonder send the countess's women here."

"i thank god," said young yeovil, "that we got here in time. if he had harmed you, dearest laure, i would have killed him here where he stood."

her lover attempted to take her hand, but she shrank away from him. as sir gervaise passed her she bent forward and seized the old baronet's hand and kissed it. he, at least, had seen that there was something beneath the surface.

"now, my child," said the old marquis kindly, but with fearful sternness, as the door closed behind the others, "what have you to add to what has been told?"

"what do you mean?"

"i know men. i know that that young man did not come here to assault you, or for robbery. you cannot tell me that the blood of the marteaux runs in his veins for nothing. and i know you did not invite him here, either. you are a d'aumenier. what is the explanation of it all?"

but the poor little countess made no answer. she slowly collapsed on the floor at the feet of the iron old man, who, to save her honor and reputation, had played his part, even as marteau, in her bedroom on that mad march morning.