ll not be persuaded--"

"I shall not be persuaded," she answered firmly, "and you do but"--alas!
her pride began to break down, her voice to quiver, she looked piteously
at him--"by staying here make it harder for me to--to--"

"Hush!" cried Madame Carlat. "Hush!" And as they started and turned
towards her--she was at the end of the chamber by the door, almost out of
earshot--she raised a warning hand. "Listen!" she muttered, "some one
has entered the house."

"'Tis my messenger from Biron," Tignonville answered sullenly. And he
drew his cowl over his face, and, hiding his hands in his sleeves, moved
towards the door. But on the threshold he turned and held out his arms.
He could not go thus. "Mademoiselle! Clotilde!" he cried with passion,
"for the last time, listen to me, come with me. Be persuaded!"

"Hush!" Madame Carlat interposed again, and turned a scared face on them.
"It is no messenger! It is Tavannes himself: I know his voice." And she
wrung her hands. "_Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu_, what are we to do?" she
continued, panic-stricken. And she looked all ways about the room.

CHAPTER XVI. AT CLOSE QUARTERS.

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 b