insignificance of men. The contemplation of them turned
his cheek a shade paler and struck terror to his heart; but did not stay
him. His eyes avoiding the other's gaze, his face shrinking and
pitiable, shame already his portion, he nodded.

"Precisely," Basterga said. "Then nothing can better serve our purpose
than this. Let your officers know what you have heard, and know that you
would hear more--of this house. That, and a hint of evil practices and
witch's spells dropped here and there, will give your townsfolk
something to talk of and stare at and swallow--till our time come."

"But if I bid them watch this house," Blondel muttered weakly--how fast,
how fast the thing was passing out of his hands!--"attention will be
called to you, and then, Messer Basterga----"

"My work is done here," Basterga replied calmly. "I have crossed that
threshold for the last time. When I leave you--and it is time we
parted--I go out of the gates, not again to return until--until things
have been brought to the point at which we would have them, Messer
Blondel."

"And that," the Syndic said with a shudder, "will be?"

"Towards the longest night. Say, in a week or so from now. The precise
moment--that and other things, I will let you know by a safe mouth."

"But the _remedium_? That first!" the Syndic muttered, a scowl, for a
second, darkening his face.

Basterga smiled. "Have no fear," he replied. "That first, by all means.
And afterwards--Geneva."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE DEPARTURE OF THE RATS.

The wood-ash on the hearth had sunk lower and grown whiter. The last
flame that had licked the black sides of the great pot had died down
among the expiring embers. Only under the largest log glowed a tiny
cavern, carbuncle-hued; and still Claude walked restlessly from the
window to the door, or listened with a frowning face at the foot of the
stairs. One hour, two hours had passed since the Syndic's departure with
Basterga; and still Anne remained with her mother and made no sign.
Once, spurred by anxiety and the thought that he might be of use, Claude
had determined to mount and seek her; but half-way up the stairs his
courage had failed he had recoiled from a scene so tender, and so
sacred. He had descended and fallen again to moving to and fro, and
listening, and staring remorsefully at the weapon--it lay where he had
dropped it on the floor--that had failed him in his need.

He had their threats in his ears, and by-and-by t