Red Caps and Lilies

that the moon was out and that the wind was changing. He walked down the great driveway which led through the demesne. It was a good mile to the gates, but with his long, ea

ough a narrow opening in a low hedge and found himself on the highroad. He walked quickly along until he came to the row of straggling huts to w

face showed itself. It was the face of Grigge, and when he saw the shepherd standing there, he came outside, closing the door softly behind him. He had on the same ol

d softly. "Dian! Wh

the inside pocket of his cloak, brought out a goatskin

ithfully for me. Let them pasture until the snow comes and then be on guard for the wolves. Here is a bit of money, only a bit. Mother Barbette will give you bread when she has it to

is words. Grigge caught hold of the edge of the shepherd's cloak and looked up at him imploringly, for it se

l I do without you, Dian! No one will have aught to do with me but you." Grigge turned up the

of your poor mother and your brothers and sisters. Go to your aunt for counsel. She is a good w

out to depart he caught his cloak again. "I'll do well by the sheep, and I'll try to think of the others when the hunger

ll I have said and guard my sheep well, for they are dear indeed to me. Hold your courage through the winter. Wh

ig

n anything in his life but discomfort. He had always been hungry and in winter he had always been cold. He was rough and selfish and sullen and he knew it and most of the time did not care. But as he stood there that night by th

, but, after hesitating a moment, he put the piece of shawl over

young lads who were made old and bitter by lack of food and the injustice that bound their lives. Dian knew little of the great conflict that was raging in Paris or of the armies massing throughout the land. He knew that the people, who for centuries had been overtaxed and overburdened by the arrogance and indifference of the nobility, had at last risen in revolt, but he did not know that they were b

ly a slight scurry and melted almost as soon as it touched the ground, it covered, for a little while, much of the soot and grime, making a fairy tracery about the roofs of the old houses. The sleet blew in a rakish, zigzag way acro

spending itself at last against the windows of a house,

ering at some nuts which she was roasting in a bed of coals. Her fair hair fell about her shoulders, and she had on the same white frock which she had

gone to nurse her father. Events had crowded thick and fast after the departure of the others for Pigeon Valley. Madame de Soigné had had just time to get away before the gates were closely guarded, and her departure had been made possible only because of an excellent disguise. There had been no word from her, and Lisle

oing to Pigeon Valley soon,

t they had been together. Lisle did not find Rosanne half as interesting as the little sister whom he missed so much, but he liked her, and he had a protecting feeling for her. She was his responsibilit

he had left for Pigeon Valley, and the longing to hear from, the others at Les Vignes seemed sometimes more than they could bear, but each

f all you fear. I know that we are in great trouble. I've thought more about it since yesterday morning when Madame Saint Frère went to your Great-aunt Hortense, who is so very ill. There were tears in your mother's eyes. I saw them. She is only to be away for a few days, and yet she di

Lisle, her brown eyes eagerly watch

his mother and he felt vaguely that he must try to divert her. He, too, missed his mother, but of course he would not admit it even to himself. The comtesse had shown a softer side than any he had ever seen before during the past months that they had been alone. The three had sat for long hours by the fire and she had told of the gay, careless times w

n for a few days. Great-aunt Hortense was ill and she had sent her servant with a no

after us as to food, and you'll find us roasting nuts by the fire when you

ered him. "And of yourself, my son, my only son, my beloved," she had sa

e quite well." Rosanne held out her hand as she spoke. "I can hum the

, and he felt that it was his duty to keep her cheerful. He found that he enjoyed the dance, for

cavaliers on Monsieur Watteau's fans," Rosanne excla

n it," Lisle answered as they hummed the bewitching melo

ère. She thought of the August night when she and Marie Josephine had watched him from the balcony as he danced with her co

an trust him always, but we do not know, even though he has seemed faithful, whether or not we can always trust Henri." Lisle had said n

several times to the bakery where he had seen Humphrey Trail, and twice of late he thought that on his return he was being followed! He liked going to the bakery. He would sit at one of the glass tables enjoying his eau sucré and a méringue and watching the well-to-do merchants' wives, who for the time

Humphrey if he should need him. Nevertheless, he had not heeded Humphrey's warning. He had continued to go to the bakery. It had been one of his few pleasures during those strange weeks so suddenly different from anyth

et us have supper in here by the fire," suggested

ered silver on the stone hearth. It was very cold and he noticed, now that they had cease

y be gone a few minutes," Lisle said to Rosanne, and leaving her he went out into the great marble hall. He went over to the entrance door and, opening it, looked out at the fast

the hall. He could hear Rosanne sin

nette avait un

la, Tra

pour elle un

la, Tra

ntil Henri should come in with their supper. He saw that the small door at the end of the cellar that led to the basement was open, a blast of cold wind drifting in. He stooped and picked up as much wood as he could carry. Then he stood up, holding the sticks against the dark velvet of his tunic. At that moment some on