ss that we may well forgive that which
she may do in a moment of panic. I imagine that he frightened the poor
lady into obedience to his command that she should open this door.
Before dinner, when we were all in the drawing-room, I noted a little
mark of dust on the white silk skirt of her dress. At the time I thought
only that her maid had been careless. Perhaps you noticed it,
mademoiselle? Ladies note such things."

He turned to Maggie, who nodded her head.

"That," he went on, "was the dust of these old passages. She had been
down here. She had opened this door."

He spread out his hands in deprecation. In his quaint Germanic way he
held one hand out over the two motionless forms in mute prayer that they
might be forgiven.

"We all have our faults," he said. "Who are we to judge each other? If
we understood all, we might pardon. The two strongest human motives are
ambition and fear. She was ruled by both. I myself have seen her under
the influence of sudden panic. I have noted the working of her great
ambition. She was probably deceived at every turn by that man, who was a
scoundrel. He is dead, and death is understood to wipe out all debts. If
I were a better man than I am, I might speak well of him. But--ach Gott!
that man was a scoundrel! I think the good God will judge between them
and forgive that poor woman. She must have repented of her action when
she heard the clatter of the rioters all round the castle. I am sure she
did that. I am sure she came down here to shut the door, and found
Claude de Chauxville here. They were probably talking together when the
poor mad fools who killed them came round to this side of the castle and
found them. They recognized her as the princess. They probably mistook
him for the prince. It is what men call a series of coincidences. I
wonder what God calls it?"

He broke off, and, stooping down, he drew the lapel of the Frenchman's
cloak gently over the marred face.

"And let us remember," he said, "that he tried to save her. Some lives
are so. At the very end a little reparation is made. In life he was her
evil genius. When he died they trampled him underfoot in order to reach
her. Mademoiselle, will you come?"

He took Maggie by the arm and led her gently away. She was shaking all
over, but his hand was steady and wholly kind.

He led her up the narrow stairs to her own room. In the little boudoir
the fire was burning brightly; the lamps were lighted, just as the maid