Not that we really expected an attack. But we did not know what
to expect or what to fear. We had not ten servants, the Vicomte
having taken a score of the sturdiest lackeys and keepers to
attend him at Bayonne. And we felt immensely responsible. Our
main hope was that the Vidame would at once go on to Paris, and
postpone his vengeance. So again and again we cast longing
glances at the House of the Wolf hoping that each symptom of
bustle heralded his departure.
Consequently it was a shock to me, and a great downfall of hopes,
when Gil with a grave face came to me on the terrace and
announced that M. le Vidame was at the gate, asking to see
Mademoiselle.
"It is out of the question that he should see her," the old
servant added, scratching his head in grave perplexity.
"Most certainly. I will see him instead," I answered stoutly.
"Do you leave Francis and another at the gate, Gil. Marie, keep
within sight, lad. And let Croisette stay with me."
These preparations made--and they took up scarcely a moment--I
met the Vidame at the head of the ramp.
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