ez!" drew nearer and
nearer, and the lights of the oncoming multitude began to flicker on the
shuttered gables, the fortitude of the servants gave way. Madame Carlat,
shivering in every limb, burst into moaning; the tiring-maid, Javette,
flung herself in terror at Mademoiselle's knees, and, writhing herself
about them, shrieked to her to save her, only to save her! One of the
men moved forward on impulse, as if he would close the shutters; and only
old Carlat remained silent, praying mutely with moving lips and a stern,
set face.

And Count Hannibal? As the glare of the links in the street grew
brighter, and ousted the sickly daylight, his form seemed to dilate. He
stilled the shrieking woman by a glance.

"Choose! Mademoiselle, and quickly!" he said. "For I can only save my
wife and her people! Quick, for the pinch is coming, and 'twill be no
boy's play."

A shot, a scream from the street, a rush of racing feet before the window
seconded his words.

"Quick, Mademoiselle!" he cried. And his breath came a little faster.
"Quick, before it be too late! Will you save life, or will you kill?"

She looked at her lover with eyes of agony, dumbly questioning him. But
he made no sign, and only Tavannes marked the look.

"Monsieur has done what he can to save himself," he said, with a sneer.
"He has donned the livery of the King's servants; he has said, 'Whoever
perishes, I will live!' But--"

"Curse you!" the young man cried, and, stung to madness, he tore the
cross from his cap and flung it on the ground. He seized his white
sleeve and ripped it from shoulder to elbow. Then, when it hung by the
string only, he held his hand.

"Curse you!" he cried furiously. "I will not at your bidding! I may
save her yet! I _will_ save her!"

"Fool!" Tavannes answered--but his words were barely audible above the
deafening uproar. "Can you fight a thousand? Look! Look!" and seizing
the other's wrist he pointed to the window.

The street glowed like a furnace in the red light of torches, raised on
poles above a sea of heads; an endless sea of heads, and gaping faces,
and tossing arms which swept on and on, and on and by. For a while it
seemed that the torrent would flow past them and would leave them safe.
Then came a check, a confused outcry, a surging this way and that; the
torches reeled to and fro, and finally, with a dull roar of "Open! Open!"
the mob faced about to the house and the lighted window.

For a