-
at-arms on either hand, caught and held one face. It was the face of a
tall, lean man in dusty black; and though she did not know him she seemed
to have an equal attraction for him; for as their eyes met he seized the
shoulder of the man next him and pointed her out. And something in the
energy of the gesture, or in the thin lips and malevolent eyes of the man
who pointed, chilled the Countess's blood and shook her, she knew not
why.

Until then, she had known no fear save of her husband. But at that a
sense of the force and pressure of the crowd--as well as of the fierce
passions, straining about her, which a word might unloose--broke upon
her; and looking to the stern men on either side she fancied that she
read anxiety in their faces.

She glanced behind. Boot to boot, the Count's men came on, pressing
round her women and shielding them from the exuberance of the throng. In
their faces too she thought that she traced uneasiness. What wonder if
the scenes through which she had passed in Paris began to recur to her
mind, and shook nerves already overwrought?

She began to tremble. "Is there--danger?" she muttered, speaking in a
low voice to Bigot, who rode on her right hand. "Will they do anything?"

The Norman snorted. "Not while he is in the saddle," he said, nodding
towards his master, who rode a pace in front of them, his reins loose.
"There be some here know him!" Bigot continued, in his drawling tone.
"And more will know him if they break line. Have no fear, Madame, he
will bring you safe to the inn. Down with the Huguenots?" he continued,
turning from her and addressing a rogue who, holding his stirrup, was
shouting the cry till he was crimson. "Then why not away, and--"

"The King! The King's word and leave!" the man answered.

"Ay, tell us!" shrieked another, looking upward, while he waved his cap;
"have we the King's leave?"

"You'll bide _his_ leave!" the Norman retorted, indicating the Count with
his thumb. "Or 'twill be up with you--on the three-legged horse!"

"But he comes from the King!" the man panted.

"To be sure. To be sure!"

"Then--"

"You'll bide his time! That's all!" Bigot answered, rather it seemed for
his own satisfaction than the other's enlightenment. "You'll all bide
it, you dogs!" he continued in his beard, as he cast his eye over the
weltering crowd. "Ha! so we are here, are we? And not too soon,
either."

He fell silent as they entered an open space,