is voice deep and solemn:

"It is strange, madame, how we stand face to face once more--alone
together. Is it not? It was your hand dealt that stab!"

She could not answer him, could only regard him fixedly, her eyes
glaring as they had glared four years ago, and as they had glared not
four minutes since. Only now it was with the wild stare of fear added
to hate and fury, and not with hate and fury alone; also she kept
still her right hand in the fold of her dress.

"When last we met, madame," St. Georges continued, his voice low and
solemn as before, "you interfered between me and my vengeance on one
who had deeply wronged me. You had the power to do so, bore about you
a concealed weapon, and--used it! Have you one now?" and he pointed
with his finger to where her hand was.

Still she maintained silence--trembling all over and affrighted; even
the arm hanging down by her side with the hand in the pocket was
trembling too.

"Well," St. Georges said, "it matters not! I shall not give you a
second opportunity--shall not turn my back on you."

Then she spoke, roused by the contempt of those last words.

"I would not have struck at you," she said, "even though I loved De
Roquemaure--am his affianced wife when he returns from England----"

"When--he--returns--from England!" St. Georges repeated, astonished.

"Yes. His affianced wife." In her tremor she thought his disbelief of
this was the cause of his astonishment, never dreaming of how he had
last left her lover. "Not even for that love. But you had abused,
insulted me, called me wanton, suggested it was I who stole your
child. And you were very masterful, ordered us to follow you into the
inn, carried all before you, treated him like a dog, would have slain
him----"

"I have since learned I wronged you, at least; that it was
another--woman--who stole my child. But enough. We have met again,
madame, and--and--I must----"

"What!" she gasped, thinking he was about to slay her. "What will you
do to me?"

"Do!" he replied. "Do! What should I do?"

"God knows! Yet in mercy spare me! I am a woman," and overcome with
fear she cast herself at his feet. "Spare me--spare me."

"I do not understand you," St. Georges said, looking down disdainfully
at her. "I think, too, you do not understand me. I wish to do only one
thing now, to quit your presence and never set eyes on you again," and
without offering to assist her to her feet he backed toward the door.

But now