"For you yourself, my cousin. He may have heard too much talk of the Marquis and too little of the Citizen. It is wonderful how news spreads. Meantime——"
"Meantime," Michael replied slowly, "the men of Varenac will come hither to greet their new lord."
"Their new lord?"
"Denningham told me of a proposed masquerade."
"Ah!"
They were understanding now.
It was time.
A scream from Olérie, who stood at the window, was echoed by a dull roar from without as she threw the casement open. Instinctively the four men ran to her side. Up the avenue of stately oaks—the pride of many a generation of Varenacs—came a crowd of men and women. Uncertainly at first, but with growing strength, rose the sounds of the familiar tune:
"Aux armes, citoyens!
Le jour de gloire est arrivé."
Then a pause.