he gesture matching the humility
of his words, while it emphasised their unwillingness.

The strange submission won no praise. M. de Perrencourt did not accord
the speech so much courtesy as lay in an answer. His silent slight bow
was all his acknowledgment; he stood there waiting for his command to be
obeyed.

Monmouth turned once towards Barbara, but his eyes came back to M. de
Perrencourt. Carford advanced to him and offered his arm. The Duke laid
his hand on his friend's shoulder. For a moment they stood still thus,
then both bowed low to M. de Perrencourt, who answered with another of
his slight inclinations of the head. They turned and walked out of the
hall, the Duke seeming almost to stagger and to lean on Carford, as
though to steady his steps. As they went they passed within two yards of
me, and I saw Monmouth's face pale with rage. With a long indrawing of
my breath I drew back into the shadow of my shelter. They passed, the
hall was empty save for myself and the two who stood there by the wall.

I had no thought now of justifying my part of eavesdropper. Scruples
were drowned in excitement; keen interest bound me to my place with
chains of iron. My brain was full of previous suspicion thrice
magnified; all that was mysterious in this man came back to me; the
message I had surprised at Canterbury ran echoing through my head again
and again. Yet I bent myself to the task of listening, resolute to catch
every word. Alas, my efforts were in vain! M. de Perrencourt was of
different clay from his Grace the Duke. He was indeed speaking now, but
so low and warily that no more than a gentle murmur reached my ears. Nor
did his gestures aid; they were as far from Monmouth's jovial violence
as his tones from the Duke's reckless exclaiming. He was urgent but
courteous, most insistent yet most deferential. Monmouth claimed and
challenged, M. de Perrencourt seemed to beseech and woo. Yet he asked
as though none could refuse, and his prayer presumed a favourable
answer. Barbara listened in quiet; I could not tell whether fear alone
bound her, or whether the soft courtly voice bred fascination also. I
was half-mad that I could not hear, and had much ado not to rush out,
unprovoked, and defy the man before whom my master had bowed almost to
the ground, beaten and dismayed.

At last she spoke a few hurried imploring words.

"No, no," she panted. "No; pray leave me. No."

M. de Perrencourt answered gently and beseechingly