he right to an explanation.

But Blondel had recovered himself. "Come, come!" he said sternly. "What
is this, young man? Are you drunk?"

"Why was the door locked?"

"That you might not interrupt me," Blondel replied severely, "while I
asked some questions. I have it in my mind to ask you some also. You
took him to my house?" he continued, addressing Louis.

Louis whined that he had.

"You were late then?" His cold eye returned to Claude. "You were late, I
warrant. Attend me to-morrow at nine, young man. Do you hear? Do you
understand?"

"Yes."

"Then have a care you are there, or the officers will fetch you. And
you," he continued, turning more graciously to Anne, "see, young woman,
you keep counsel. A still tongue buys friends, and is a service to the
State. With that--good-night."

He looked from one to the other with a sour smile, nodded, and passed
out.

He left Claude staring, and something bewildered in the middle of the
room. The love, the pity, the admiration of which the lad's heart had
been full an hour before, still hungered for expression; but it was not
easy to vent such feelings before Louis, nor at a moment when the
Syndic's cold eye and the puzzle of his presence there chilled for the
time the atmosphere of the room.

Claude, indeed, was utterly perplexed by what he had seen; and before he
could decide what he would do, Anne, ignoring the need of explanation,
had taken the matter into her own hands. She had begun to set out the
meal; and Louis, smiling maliciously, had seated himself in his place.
To speak with any effect then, or to find words adequate to the feelings
that had moved him a while before, was impossible. A moment later, the
opportunity was gone.

"You must please to wait on yourselves," the girl said wearily. "My
mother is not well, and I may not come down again this evening." As she
spoke, she lifted from the table the little tray which she had prepared.

He was in time to open the door for her; and even then, had she glanced
at him, his eyes must have told her much, perhaps enough. But she did
not look at him. She was preoccupied with her own thoughts; pressing
thoughts they must have been. She passed him as if he had been a
stranger, her eyes on the tray. Worshipping, he stood, and saw her turn
the corner at the head of the flight; then with a full heart he went
back to his place. His time would come.

And she? At the door of Basterga's room she paused and stood long i