er, hurry her along, as it were, and absorb
her attention, until she could only bring her thoughts back to the other
with an effort. Barrington stood out clear and distinct, definite in
word and action, knowing what he intended to do and doing it without
thinking of failure; Lucien was a shadow in comparison, indistinct,
waiting rather than acting. Barrington would have made an attempt to get
her out of Paris before this, and Jeanne was convinced that she would
have gone without fear. If the enterprise had failed, it would have been
a splendid failure. Lucien had not made the attempt. She did not blame
him, his nature was to exercise greater caution, and when he did move,
perhaps the chances of success would be greater; yet she knew that with
Lucien she would feel greater responsibility, feel that she was obliged
to protect him almost as much as he protected her. Lucien would ask her
advice and be guided by it; Barrington would tell her what to do and be
angry if she did not obey at once.

"It is my love which makes the difference," she told herself. "A woman
must exercise protection over the man she loves. In the love of all good
women there is the mother instinct. That is the reason why I feel like
this toward Lucien." And then she thought of how she had passed the
barrier with Barrington and his servant Seth. It seemed a mad scheme,
yet it had succeeded. And Lucien had asked her whether this man was to
be trusted!

So the days passed, much dreaming in them for want of other employment.
It was sometimes too cold and wet to walk much in the garden, and the
sense of confinement within high walls was depressing. Not always could
cards or music dispel the anxiety which these guests had to endure, and
Jeanne, with all her bravery, had hard work to keep her tears back at
times. She had been at the house in the Rue Charonne a month when Marie,
a maid of all work in the establishment, came to her one morning, a
frightened look in her face and evidences of tears in her eyes. Marie
was generally assumed to be of rather weak intellect, chiefly perhaps
because she made no complaint against the drudgery of her life, and
because, unlike the other servants, she did not copy the rapacity of the
master and extort fees at every opportunity. She was especially attached
to Mademoiselle St. Clair, who had in times past befriended her aged
mother, and she had endeavored to repay the debt by special devotion to
her, and, when they chanced