A Blot on the Scutcheon

by Mabel Winifred Knowles

But Brittany remained.

So Count Jéhan held his head high as he made answer, sternly and quietly, thinking—poor fool—that none guessed his secret, least of all the woman who looked so wistfully into his eyes.

"La Rouerie calls me his friend," said he, "and Brittany her son. As friend and son I remain on Breton soil.

"As for the Cause, it will never die till la Rouerie breathes his last. And so Heaven bless and hold you all in its fair keeping till we meet in happier times."

He smiled, making light of the parting as though he went to some merry fête.

Nor would he let his mother weep, or Cécile cling around his neck.

"For Brittany and the Cause," he cried, laughing gaily as the boats glided out at last into the deepest waters of the bay.

"For Brittany and the Cause—we'll cry that in Paris ere long."

He waved his handkerchief as he spoke, and, though the shadows fell around him, they could hear the glad ring of triumph in his voice.

But only Gabrielle, as she clung to Michael's side, in the great joy of reunion and hope, knew that Count Jéhan de Quernais went back with empty, aching heart to a lost cause.