Little by little--while they fought below--the gloom had thickened, and

night had fallen in the room above. But Mademoiselle would not have

candles brought. Seated in the darkness, on the uppermost step of the

stairs, her hands clasped about her knees, she listened and listened, as

if by that action she could avert misfortune; or as if, by going so far

forward to meet it, she could turn aside the worst. The women shivering

in the darkness about her would fain have struck a light and drawn her

back into the room, for they felt safer there. But she was not to be

moved. The laughter and chatter of the men in the guard-room, the coming

and going of Bigot as he passed, below but out of sight, had no terrors

for her; nay, she breathed more freely on the bare open landing of the

staircase than in the close confines of a room which her fears made

hateful to her. Here at least she could listen, her face unseen; and

listening she bore the suspense more easily.

A turn in the staircase, with the noise which proceeded from the guard-

room, rendered it difficult to hear what happened in the closed room

below. But she thought that if an alarm were raised there she must hear

it; and as the moments passed and nothing happened, she began to feel

confident that her lover had made good his escape by the window.

Presently she got a fright. Three or four men came from the guard-room

and went, as it seemed to her, to the door of the room with the shattered

casement. She told herself that she had rejoiced too soon, and her heart

stood still. She waited for a rush of feet, a cry, a struggle. But

except an uncertain muffled sound which lasted for some minutes, and was

followed by a dull shock, she heard nothing more. And presently the men

went back whispering, the noise in the guard-room which had been

partially hushed broke forth anew, and perplexed but relieved she

breathed again. Surely he had escaped by this time. Surely by this time

he was far away, in the Arsenal, or in some place of refuge! And she

might take courage, and feel that for this day the peril was overpast.

"Mademoiselle will have the lights now?" one of the women ventured.

"No! no!" she answered feverishly, and she continued to crouch where she

was on the stairs, bathing herself and her burning face in the darkness

and coolness of the stairway. The air entered freely through a window at

her elbow, and the place was fresher, were that all, than the room she

had left. Javette began to whimper, but she paid no heed to her; a man

came and went along the passage below, and she heard the outer door

unbarred, and the jarring tread of three or four men who passed through

it. But all without disturbance; and afterwards the house was quiet

again. And as on this Monday evening the prime virulence of the massacre

had begun to abate--though it held after a fashion to the end of the

week--Paris without was quiet also. The sounds which had chilled her

heart at intervals during two days were no longer heard. A feeling

almost of peace, almost of comfort--a drowsy feeling, that was three

parts a reaction from excitement--took possession of her. In the

darkness her head sank lower and lower on her knees. And half an hour

passed, while Javette whimpered, and Madame Carlat slumbered, her broad

back propped against the wall.




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