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.

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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.




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