Fear leapt into Mademoiselle's eyes, but she commanded herself. She
signed to Madame Carlat to be silent, and they listened, gazing at one
another, hoping against hope that the woman was mistaken. A long moment
they waited, and some were beginning to breathe again, when the strident
tones of Count Hannibal's voice rolled up the staircase, and put an end
to doubt. Mademoiselle grasped the table and stood supporting herself by
it.
"What are we to do?" she muttered. "What are we to do?" and she turned
distractedly towards the women. The courage which had supported her in
her lover's absence had abandoned her now. "If he finds him here I am
lost! I am lost!"
"He will not know me," Tignonville muttered. But he spoke uncertainly;
and his gaze, shifting hither and thither, belied the boldness of his
words.
Madame Carlat's eyes flew round the room; on her for once the burden
seemed to rest. Alas! the room had no second door, and the windows
looked on a courtyard guarded by Tavannes' people. And even now Count
Hannibal's step rang on the stair! his hand was almost on the latch. The
woman wrung her hands; then, a thought striking her, she darted to a
corner where Mademoiselle's robes hung on pegs against the wall.
"Here!" she cried, raising them. "Behind these! He may not be seen
here! Quick, Monsieur, quick! Hide yourself!"
It was a forlorn hope--the suggestion of one who had not thought out the
position; and, whatever its promise, Mademoiselle's pride revolted
against it.
"No," she cried. "Not there!" while Tignonville, who knew that the step
was useless, since Count Hannibal must have learned that a monk had
entered, held his ground.
"You could not deny yourself?" he muttered hurriedly.
"And a priest with me?" she answered; and she shook her head.
There was no time for more, and even as Mademoiselle spoke Count
Hannibal's knuckles tapped the door. She cast a last look at her lover.
He had turned his back on the window; the light no longer fell on his
face. It was possible that he might pass unrecognized, if Tavannes' stay
was brief; at any rate, the risk must be run. In a half stifled voice
she bade her woman, Javette, open the door. Count Hannibal bowed low as
he entered; and he deceived the others. But he did not deceive her. He
had not crossed the threshold before she repented that she had not acted
on Tignonville's suggestion, and denied herself. For what could escape
those hard keen eyes, which swept the room, saw all, and seemed to see
nothing--those eyes in which there dwelt even now a glint of cruel
humour? He might deceive others, but she who panted within his grasp, as
the wild bird palpitates in the hand of the fowler, was not deceived! He
saw, he knew! although, as he bowed, and smiling, stood upright, he
looked only at her.