sieur mistakes me," he said, with a
broad sweep of the hand. "And Mademoiselle also, perhaps? Oh! be
content, she shall have bell, book, and candle; she shall be tied as
tight as Holy Church can tie her! Or, if she please, and one survive,
she shall have a priest of her own church--you call it a church? She
shall have whichever of the two will serve her better. 'Tis one to me!
But for paying me, Monsieur," he continued, with irony in voice and
manner; "when, I pray you? In Eternity? For if you refuse my offer, you
have done with time. Now? I have but to sound this whistle"--he touched
a silver whistle which hung at his breast--"and there are those within
hearing will do your business before you make two passes. Dismiss the
notion, sir, and understand. You are in my power. Paris runs with
blood, as noble as yours, as innocent as hers. If you would not perish
with the rest, decide! And quickly! For what you have seen are but the
forerunners, what you have heard are but the gentle whispers that predict
the gale. Do not parley too long; so long that even I may no longer save
you."

"I would rather die!" Mademoiselle moaned, her face covered. "I would
rather die!"

"And see him die?" he answered quietly. "And see these die? Think,
think, child!"

"You will not do it!" she gasped. She shook from head to foot.

"I shall do nothing," he answered firmly. "I shall but leave you to your
fate, and these to theirs. In the King's teeth I dare save my wife and
her people; but no others. You must choose--and quickly."

One of the frightened women--it was Mademoiselle's tiring-maid, a girl
called Javette--made a movement, as if to throw herself at her mistress's
feet. Tignonville drove her to her place with a word. He turned to
Count Hannibal.

"But, M. le Comte," he said, "you must be mad! Mad, to wish to marry her
in this way! You do not love her. You do not want her. What is she to
you more than other women?"

"What is she to you more than other women?" Tavannes retorted, in a tone
so sharp and incisive that Tignonville started, and a faint touch of
colour crept into the wan cheek of the girl, who sat between them, the
prize of the contest. "What is she more to you than other women? Is she
more? And yet--you want her!"

"She is more to me," Tignonville answered.

"Is she?" the other retorted, with a ring of keen meaning. "Is she? But
we bandy words and the storm is rising, as I warned you