I took back the ribbons from the table and thrust them into their old resting-place, my face hot with shame at my unworthy suspicions.
'Palin,' I said, 'you were right. I am a fool.'
'You are,' he answered, 'exactly what your father was before you at your age.'
'My father—you knew him?'
'Yes—Raoul de Breuil, Sieur d'Auriac, and Governor of Provence. We were friends in the old days, and I owed him my life once, as did also Henry the Great, our King and master—in the days of his youth.'
'And you never told me this?'
'I have told you now. I owe the house of Auriac my life twice over, and I recognise in this, as in all things, the hand of God. Young man, I have watched you, and you are worthy—be of good courage.' He stretched out his hand, and I grasped it in silence.
'See here,' he continued, 'I have come to you like a thief in the twilight, because I have that to say which is for you alone. It is useless to appeal to the King. Our only chance is flight, and we have no one to rely on but you. Will you help us—help Madame?'
'Why need to ask? Have I not already said so? Am I not ready to die, if need be, to save her?'
'You are now,' he said, 'but I will not press that point. Then we, or rather I, can count on you?'