There came presently a timorous knocking on the panels of the door.
Only Breton heard it, and he rose silently to answer this delicate
summons. He looked at his master. The Chevalier was deep in his
melancholy recollections. It seemed to Breton that Quebec was filled
with phantoms: he had listened to so many strange noises these lonely
nights, waiting and hoping for his master's return. He was not sure
that this gentle rapping was not a deception. Besides, it was past
nine. Who could be calling this time of night? A trooper or an
officer would have put the full weight of his fist against the door.
He stopped and put his hand to his ear. The knocking came again.
Breton opened the door quietly, and to his unbounded surprise a woman
entered. She pointed toward the hall. Breton, comprehending that she
wished to be alone with his master, tiptoed out; and the door closed.
The visitor stood with her back to the door, silent and motionless as a
statue. A burning log crackled with a sharp report, and a thousand
sparks flew heaven-ward. There were wonderful lights in this woman's
eyes and a high color on her somewhat thin cheeks. A minute passed;
and another ticked itself into eternity. The Chevalier sat upright and
stirred restlessly. The paper of the cabal crackled in his hand. . . .
What was it? he wondered. Something, he could not tell what, seemed
drawing, drawing. He became vaguely conscious of a presence. He
turned his head slowly.
"Madame?" He jumped to his feet, his hand bearing heavily upon the
back of his chair. "Madame?" he repeated.
The great courage which had brought her here ebbed, and her hand stole
toward the latch. Neither of them realized how long a time they faced
each other, a wonder in his eyes, an unfamiliar glory in hers.
"Monsieur . . ." she began; but her throat contracted and grew hot.
She could not bring another word to her lips. The glisten in her eyes
dimmed for a moment, but the color on her cheeks deepened and spread to
her throat and brow.
"Madame," he said, speaking first to disembarrass her, "here is
something which belongs to you."
The outstretched arm and paper fascinated her. She did not move.
"It is yours, Madame. It is the list of the cabal. I was going to
bring it to you in the morning." He forced a smile to his lips to
reassure her.
Ah, those treacherous knees of hers! Where was her courage? Alas,
for that magnanimous resolve! Whither had it flown? But as the
firelight bathed his pale face and emphasized the grey hair and the red
scar above one of his temples, both her courage and resolve came back.
She walked slowly over to him and took the paper, approached the fire,
sank, and eagerly scanned the parchment. She gave a cry of exultation,
end thrust the evil thing into the flames.