heart he was already beginning to find innumerable excuses for
his cowardice: and his rage and hatred grew against Clyffurde as
Madame's more and more persistent questions taxed his imagination almost
to exhaustion.

When, after half an hour of this wearying cross-examination, Madame at
last granted him a respite, he made a pretext of urgent business at M.
le Comte d'Artois' headquarters and took his leave of the ladies. He
waited in vain hope that the Duchesse's tact would induce her to leave
him alone for a moment with Crystal. Madame stuck obstinately to her
chair and was blind and deaf to every hint of appeal from him, whilst
Crystal, who was singularly absorbed and had lent but a very indifferent
ear to his narrative, made no attempt to detain him.

She gave him her hand to kiss, just as Madame had done; it lay hot and
moist in his grasp.

"Crystal," he continued to murmur as his lips touched her fingers, "I
love you . . . I worked for you . . . it is not my fault that I failed."

She looked at him kindly and sympathetically through her tears, and gave
his hand a gentle little pressure.

"I am sure it was not your fault," she replied gently, "poor Maurice.
. . ."

It was not more than any kind friend would say under like circumstances,
but to a lover every little word from the beloved has a significance of
its own, every look from her has its hidden meaning. Somewhat satisfied
and cheered Maurice now took his final leave:

"Does M. le Comte propose to continue his journey to Paris?" he asked at
the last.

"Oh, yes!" Crystal replied, "he could not stay away while he feels that
His Majesty may have need of him. Oh, Maurice!" she added suddenly,
forgetting her absorption, her wrath against Clyffurde, her own
disappointment--everything--in face of the awful possible calamity, and
turning anxious, appealing eyes upon the young man, "you don't think, do
you, that that abominable usurper will succeed in ousting the King once
more from his throne?"

And St. Genis--remembering Laffray and Grenoble, remembering what was
going on in Lyons at this moment, the silent grumblings of the troops,
the defaced white cockades, the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which he
himself had heard as he rode through the town--St. Genis, remembering
all this, could only shake his head and shrug his shoulders in miserable
doubt.

When he had gone at last, Crystal's thoughts veered back once more to
Clyffurde and to his treachery.

"Wh