"All is ready, lord and master," they said as with one voice.
"And Prelati?"
"He is in waiting."
"And La Meffraye," he went on, "has she arrived?"
"La Meffraye has arrived," they said; "all goes fortunately."
"Good!" said Gilles de Retz, and shedding his furred monkish cloak carelessly from off his shoulders, he went within.
Poitou and Gilles de Sillé both reached to catch the mantle ere it fell. As they did so their hands met and touched. And at the meeting of each other's flesh they started and drew apart. Their eyes encountered furtively and were instantly withdrawn. Then, having hung up the cloak, with pallid countenances and lips white and tremulous, they slowly followed the marshal within.
"Sybilla de Thouars, as you are in my power, so I bid you work my will!"
It was the deep, stern voice of the Marshal de Retz which spoke. The Lady Sybilla lay back in a great chair with her eyes closed, breathing slowly and gently through her parted lips. Messire Gilles stood before her with his hands joined palm to palm and his white fingertips almost touching the girl's brow.