She laughed, an unexpected laugh, as one may laugh at a grim jest which cuts deep into the very soul.
"I do not understand you," he said.
"Did ever a man understand a woman yet? Let it suffice that I have deeper learning, and understand you perfectly. Go, Felix. This is no time for such riddles as trying to understand a woman. Your strong hand is wanted at the helm of affairs now."
"Good advice again, but nothing more."
"Can a man have everything for the asking?" she answered, and, laughing again, she passed from the room.
Felix went back to the castle, her advice ringing in his ears, all else forgotten for the moment. There was a subtle affinity between this woman and himself; he felt it, recognized it, bowed to it. She understood him, perhaps, better than any one else did. He felt better in her company, yet while he told her of his ambitions, there was much in his scheming which he dared not tell her. She was a good woman, and he had perception enough to think it strange that she should love him. Beyond that, his thoughts concerning her touched chaos, touched all that was most selfish in himself. He called it love, but there were moments when he understood himself well enough to know that such love as his, could she fully know it, might breed hate in her; and he would almost as soon have lost the crown as her good-will. Something of superstition there may have been in this; he had called her his living talisman, and the term had real meaning for him; perhaps deep down in his nature there were good inspirations which had never been granted an opportunity of rising to the surface.
To-day it was her advice that filled his thoughts. She, too, had called him my Lord Duke, even as Jean the dwarf had done. Was the spirit of prophecy in them both? Why had the dwarf called him so? Truly he was a fool, but might there not be method in such folly? He would see the dwarf and question him. So as soon as he returned to the castle, he gave orders that Jean was to be found without delay and brought to him.
The dwarf was sought for in the castle, in the Church of St. Etienne, and in the streets, but was nowhere to be found. He had been seen in the city during the morning, but no one could tell where he had gone. He was quite a public character in Vayenne, everybody knew him, but how he lived, or where he was to be found at any given moment, nobody knew. It was agreed, however, that there were times when he was not seen at all for days together. The failure to find him now only made the Count more eager to see him, and a diligent search went on throughout the day.
And all the while Jean sat in the corner of a room in the empty house by the wall, his legs doubled under him, his arms folded in his loose tunic, his head dropped forward upon his breast. He was as motionless as a squatting idol, and any one who had ever seen him thus might well believe that there was something mysterious about him. Jean was not hiding from the Count, he had no idea that he was being looked for; he had a problem to consider, and he had come into this solitude to solve it. He had heard of the death of the young Duke, had seen Barbier as he rode to and from the castle yesterday. He had heard of the Count's orders to arrest Captain Lemasle and any priest who entered Vayenne. Was the Duke really dead? How was friend Roger to be warned? The problem was evidently a difficult one to solve, for the dwarf sat for hours in the corner, never changing his position, scarcely making a movement the whole time.
Toward dusk, when the lights had begun to blink from windows, and the taverns and cafés were filling with men eager to discuss the news, he climbed to the roof, and clambered down the face of the wall to his boat hidden in the sunken archway. With a few vigorous strokes he sent it out into the stream, landing presently at the same spot where he had landed Herrick. He made fast the boat, and went quickly to the house among the trees.