ast surprised or startled
at seeing Chauvelin standing in the very doorway through which she had
hoped to pass. Once glance at his face had made her fears tangible and
real: there was a look of satisfaction and triumph in his pale, narrow
eyes, a flash in them of approbation directed at the insolent attitude
of the French actress: he looked like the stage-manager of a play,
content with the effect his own well-arranged scenes were producing.

What he hoped to gain by this--somewhat vulgar--quarrel between the two
women, Marguerite of course could not guess: that something was lurking
in his mind, inimical to herself and to her husband, she did not for a
moment doubt, and at this moment she felt that she would have given
her very life to induce Candeille and Juliette to cease this passage of
arms, without further provocation on either side.

But though Juliette might have been ready to yield to Lady Blakeney's
persuasion, Desiree Candeille, under Chauvelin's eye, and fired by her
own desire to further humiliate this overbearing aristocrat, did not
wish the little scene to end so tamely just yet.

"Your old calotin was made to part with his booty, m'dear," she said,
with a contemptuous shrug of her bare shoulders. "Paris and France have
been starving these many years past: a paternal government seized all
it could with which to reward those that served it well, whilst all that
would have been brought bread and meat for the poor was being greedily
stowed away by shameless traitors!"

Juliette winced at the insult.

"Oh!" she moaned, as she buried her flaming face in her hands.

Too late now did she realise that she had deliberately stirred up a
mud-heap and sent noisome insects buzzing about her ears.

"Mademoiselle," said Marguerite authoritatively, "I must ask you to
remember that Mlle. de Marny is my friend and that you are a guest in my
house."

"Aye! I try not to forget it," rejoined Candeille lightly, "but of a
truth you must admit, Citizeness, that it would require the patience
of a saint to put up with the insolence of a penniless baggage, who but
lately has had to stand her trial in her own country for impurity of
conduct."

There was a moment's silence, whilst Marguerite distinctly heard a
short sigh of satisfaction escaping from the lips of Chauvelin. Then a
pleasant laugh broke upon the ears of the four actors who were enacting
the dramatic little scene, and Sir Percy Blakeney, immaculate in his
rich