ut that devil's hands and fling it in his face?
Yet, though her loving ear caught every intonation of her husband's
voice, she could not detect the slightest harshness in his airy laugh;
his tone was perfectly natural and he seemed to be, indeed, just as he
appeared--vastly amused.

Then she thought that perhaps he would wish her to go now, that he felt
desire to be alone with this man, who had outraged him in everything
that he held most holy and most dear, his honour and his wife... that
perhaps, knowing that his own temper was no longer under control, he did
not wish her to witness the rough and ready chastisement which he was
intending to meet out to this dastardly intriguer.

Yes! that was it no doubt! Herein she could not be mistaken; she knew
his fastidious notions of what was due and proper in the presence of a
woman, and that even at a moment like this, he would wish the manners of
London drawing-rooms to govern his every action.

Therefore she rose to go, and as she did so, once more tried to read the
expression in his face... to guess what was passing in his mind.

"Nay, Madam," he said, whilst he bowed gracefully before her, "I fear me
this lengthy conversation hath somewhat fatigued you.... This merry jest
'twixt my engaging friend and myself should not have been prolonged so
far into the night.... Monsieur, I pray you, will you not give orders
that her ladyship be escorted back to her room?"

He was still standing outside the circle of light, and Marguerite
instinctively went up to him. For this one second she was oblivious
of Chauvelin's presence, she forgot her well-schooled pride, her
firm determination to be silent and to be brave: she could not longer
restrain the wild beatings of her heart, the agony of her soul, and
with sudden impulse she murmured in a voice broken with intense love and
subdued, passionate appeal:

"Percy!"

He drew back a step further into the gloom: this made her realize the
mistake she had made in allowing her husband's most bitter enemy to
get this brief glimpse into her soul. Chauvelin's thin lips curled with
satisfaction, the brief glimpse had been sufficient for him, the rapidly
whispered name, the broken accent had told him what he had not known
hitherto: namely, that between this man and woman there was a bond far
more powerful that that which usually existed between husband and wife,
and merely made up of chivalry on the one side and trustful reliance on
the other