“That is more to my liking,” said Pascal, gleefully.
“And lastly for yourself, Pascal. Don’t return here, but don once more your monk’s gown; and when the task I have given you is completed, go to the Castle and keep your eyes open. There, if anywhere, trouble may be looked for, and your ready wit will be most needed.”
“You will at least let me be near you,” said Pascal earnestly.
“I know your zeal and friendship too well to hesitate to send for you at the first touch of danger. But I look for none of any serious character. And now,” he broke off, rising, “it is time for this visit to the Castle. I must find Mademoiselle de Malincourt.”
Gabrielle was waiting for him and again urged him not to go.
“I have a presentiment,” she said. “Let me dissuade you at the last moment from this ill-omened daring.”
“I should rather read the omens ill if I were to leave you or suffer you to go alone, Gabrielle.”
“Is there nothing I can say or do that will urge you to fly?”
“Nothing, nothing; unless,” he added with a half-serious smile—“unless you would share the flight. And that I cannot ask—yet.”
She started and looked to read his face, and after a moment answered—