which I don't know the plot; he who has provoked and wounded you!"

"Can it be possible?" murmured the viscount.

"Only too true," replied William; "but what course are we to pursue in regard to him ?"

"To refer him to the justice of the king."

"So I was thinking-yes, it seems to me to be the best expedient; for his crime can not remain unpunished, and our security requires that we do not keep him here. The duke would not know how to rescue him. Come, good courage, John! In a few days we shall be on our way to defend a more noble cause-the holy cause of the Christian religion."

The Marquis de la Roche and his equerry exchanged a few words more, and then parted, the one to inform himself as to his niece, the other to assure himself that all danhad ceased.

ger

CHAPTER VIII.

THE EVASION.

WHAT had become of Laura de Kerskoën? Why did her uncle not find her in her chamber?

At nine o'clock the young lady of the manor opened the sash of her window, and heard the noise of a footstep on the rampart; she said, as the reader will remember, "Is it you, Bertrand?" But the flash of lightning having shown her John de Ganay instead of him she expected, Laura suddenly retired in a fright, augmented by the war-cry which nearly at the same moment came to her ear. Trembling and terrified, she first thought of seeking refuge with her uncle. An instinct-the instinct of love-stopped her. Returning to her window, she saw through the darkness the black plume which surmounted the helmet of her lover.

"Bertrand!" said she, "merciful Heaven! is this done by him ?"

But a thought struck her. Without reflecting any further, she descended into the court of honor; she hoped to be able to warn Bertrand that the marquis had returned to the chateau. Unfortunately all the means of egress had been barricaded, and she was obliged to return to her apartment. It was during this absence that William came to see his niece. Palpitating, lovesick, not daring to look outside, she sat on the side of her bed, and listened. It is more difficult to describe than to imagine the moral tortures she had to suffer during the siege of the manor. Every musket report reverberated through her heart like a funeral knell; and when the thunderbolt fell on the bridge, with a horrible fracas, the poor girl almost fainted.

What a sad situation for her! If her uncle was conqueror, her lover would without doubt be put to the sword; if, on the contrary, Bertrand prevailed, what might he do to the Marquis de la Roche, who had reared and cherished her like a father? Mon Dieu, what affliction for the unfortunate Laura! Distracted by the conflicting sentiments of duty, gratitude, and the anxieties of the passion of love, how deeply did this cruel alternative pain her. Her heart beat violently, and the blood rushed to her head, when Catharine entered with a torch in her hand. The good dame shuddered at every limb.

"Jesus, Lord, have pity on us!" she exclaimed. “They are going to seize, pillage, and sack us, as they did at the monastery of Rennes. Holy Mary, mother of God, protect us!"

"You are, then, so much afraid, nurse ?" said Laura, in order to allay her fears.

"Fear, dear mademoiselle!-fear! Oh! let us pray, my daughter; let us implore the justice of heaven that right may triumph!"

Laura did not rightly know what response to make to this invitation; impelled by the example of her nurse, she prostrated herself, and both commenced to tell their beads, interrupting each other from time to time as the tumult increased.

When the duel between John de Ganay and Bertrand had ended, both the besiegers and besieged were silent.

"Mercy, sweet Saviour," said Catharine, supposing that Providence had heard her prayers, "the traitors are expelled."

"Hush!" said Laura, rising and approaching the window.

"Oh, demoiselle! demoiselle! where are you going?" "Hush!"

Thrusting herself out of the window, the young lady looked about anxiously; then she shuddered and bounded back; then she advanced again, passed her head outside the sash, writhed her body, and with muscles quivering, and eyes fixed, she contemplated the drama which was being enacted on the esplanade. I leave it to be imagined what sensations she experienced during this long combat, which compromised the head she loved above all expression. Twenty times she tried to scream, but her emotion made her dumb; twenty times she wished to shut her eyes and to withdraw; but a power of attraction, more energetic than her will, held her riveted to that place.

Bertrand is struck-he falls!

Immediately the nerves of Laura distended-she was hurt at heart-she sank down on the floor! Catharine ran to her aid.

The next night, between eleven o'clock and midnight, Laura de Kerskoën, lady of Vornadeck Manor, enveloped from head to foot in a dark mantle, stealthily crossed the court of honor of the castle, proceeding direct to the fortress. A sentinel was in the sentry-box at the entrance, but he had got a soporific, and he slept profoundly.

Laura penetrated into the tower, mounted the first flight, and drawing a large key from her corset, opened, after many difficulties, the door of a chamber of triangular form. This chamber is the prison of Bertrand.

Chained to a block of stone, the young man was suffering from a violent fever, occasioned by the wound he had received on the shoulder.

"Who is there?" asked he sadly.

The young lady uncovered the lamp which she had concealed under her mantle, and knelt by his side.

"Laura! Is it a dream ?"

"Alas, poor Bertrand!"

"But what! I do not dream! It is you, really you! Oh, approach!-yet-yet-there-that I may touch your clothes, and respire your breath! My God, yes, it is she— it is my Laura-"

"Dear Bertrand, what a position you are in!"