"Was Gerard de Cobalt? Nor was he. But do you remember my words, when you were such a philosopher about the plagues of love? I told you you would learn to know it all some day. Oh, Gabrielle, what a lecture I might read you now! You cannot find him near you without a dozen tremors and a fleeting tide of colour in your face and light in your eyes; and when he is not by your side, how restless is Gabrielle, with glances here and glances there, listening for his footstep or his voice, and impatience, oh, such impatience, at all that keeps him from you."
"If I plead guilty, has the court no mercy for me?"
"My dearest, I love you for it. But I told you how it would be; and God knows neither you nor I would have it otherwise. Ah, here is M. Pascal," she said as he came round the house.
"Mademoiselle, I have hastened from the city to crave your pardon," he said to Gabrielle.
"You are already assured of it, monsieur, for I know the offence will be but a trifle."
"You must not trust all men, Gabrielle," put in Lucette briskly.
"Yet unwittingly I may have offended. It was I who instigated the baiting of M. de Proballe and the scurvy knave he calls his secretary. I knew when he would leave, and set on Babillon to frighten him. I have heard it was against your wish, and would not have you blame your citizens for the act of a rough Bourbon soldier."
"What happened to them?" asked Lucette. And when Pascal told her of Dauban's treatment, she laughed and clapped her hands.
"May I tack a condition to my pardon, monsieur?" asked Gabrielle, smiling.
"Were I one of your cautious burghers, I would urge that the condition be first specified."
"It is that you do not leave with the Bourbon forces to-morrow, but remain to be a friend and help to us all."
