Javette nodded. Her tale told, she seemed to be unable to add a word.
Mademoiselle, who knew her for a craven, wondered that she had found
courage either to note what she had or to bring the news. But as
Providence had been so good to them as to put it into this woman's head
to act as she had, it behoved them to use the opportunity--the last, the
very last opportunity they might have.
She turned to Tignonville. "Oh, go!" she cried feverishly. "Go, I beg!
Go now, Monsieur! The greatest kindness you can do me is to place
yourself as quickly as possible beyond his reach." A faint colour, the
flush of hope, had returned to her cheeks. Her eyes glittered.
"Right, Mademoiselle!" he cried, obedient for once, "I go! And do you be
of good courage."
He held her hand: an instant, then, moving to the door, he opened it and
listened. They all pressed behind him to hear. A murmur of voices, low
and distant, mounted the staircase and bore out the girl's tale; apart
from this the house was silent. Tignonville cast a last look at
Mademoiselle, and, with a gesture of farewell, glided a-tiptoe to the
stairs and began to descend, his face hidden in his cowl. They watched
him reach the angle of the staircase, they watched him vanish beyond it;
and still they listened, looking at one another when a board creaked or
the voices below were hushed for a moment.