was puzzled to think what had become of her. The suspense
which I felt, but did not understand, was so great that at last I
moved, and the bed creaked.

In a moment her face was turned our way, and she glided forwards, her
features still hidden by the hood of her cloak. She was close to us
now, bending over us. She raised her hand to her head--to shade her
eyes, as she looked more closely, I supposed, and I was wondering
whether she saw us--whether she took the shapelessness in the shadow of
the curtain for her sister, or could not make it out--I was thinking
how we could best apprise her of our presence without alarming
her--when Croisette dashed my thoughts to the winds! Croisette, with a
tremendous whoop and a crash, bounded over me on to the floor!

She uttered a gasping cry--a cry of intense, awful fear. I have the
sound in my ears even now. With that she staggered back, clutching the
air. I heard the metallic clang and ring of something falling on the
floor. I heard an answering cry of alarm from the window; and then
Madame de Pavannes ran forward and caught her in her arms.

It was strange to find the room lately so silent become at once alive
with whispering forms, as we came hastily to light. I cursed Croisette
for his folly, and was immeasurably angry with him, but I had no time
to waste words on him then. I hurried to the door to guard it. I
opened it a hand's breadth and listened. All was quiet below; the house
still. I took the key out of the lock and put it in my pocket and went
back. Marie and Croisette were standing a little apart from Madame de
Pavannes, who, hanging over her sister, was by turns bathing her face
and explaining our presence.

In a very few minutes Madame d'O seemed to recover, and sat up. The
first shock of deadly terror had passed, but she was still pale. She
still trembled, and shrank from meeting our eyes, though I saw her,
when our attention was apparently directed elsewhere, glance at one and
another of us with a strange intentness, a shuddering curiosity. No
wonder, I thought. She must have had a terrible fright--one that might
have killed a more timid woman!

"What on earth did you do that for!" I asked Croisette presently, my
anger certainly not decreasing the more I looked at her beautiful face.
"You might have killed her!"

In charity I supposed his nerves had failed him, for he could not even
now give me a straightforward answer. His only reply was, "L