he horror of inaction,
the horror of sitting still and awaiting the worst with folded hands,
overcame him; and in a panic planning flight for them all, flight,
however hopeless, however desperate, he hurried into his bed-closet, and
began to pack his possessions. He packed impulsively until even the fat
text-books bulked in his bundle, and the folly of flying for life with a
Caesar and Melancthon on his back struck him. Then he turned all out on
the floor in a fury of haste lest she should surprise him, and think
that he had had it in his mind to desert her.

Back he went on that to the living-room with its dying fire and
lengthening shadows; and there he resumed his solitary pacing. The room
lay silent, the house lay silent; even the rampart without, which the
biting wind kept clear of passers. He tried to reason on the position,
to settle what would happen, what steps Basterga and Blondel would take,
how the blow they threatened would fall. Would the officers of the
Syndic enter and seize the two helpless women and drag them to the
guard-house? In that case, what should he do, what could he do, since it
was most unlikely that he would be allowed to go with them or see them?
For a time the desperate notion of bolting and barring the house and
holding it against the law possessed his mind; but only to be quickly
dismissed. He was not yet mad enough for that. In the meantime was there
any one to whom he could appeal? Any course he could adopt?

The sound of the latch rising in its socket drew his eyes to the outer
door. It opened, and he saw Louis Gentilis on the threshold. Holding the
door ajar, the young man peered in. Meeting Claude's eyes, he looked to
the stairs, as if to seek the protection of Anne's presence; failing to
find her, he made for an instant as if he would shut the door again, and
go. But apparently he saw that Claude, thoroughly dispirited, was making
no motion to carry out his threats of vengeance; and he thought better
of it. He came in slowly, and closed the door after him. Turning his cap
in his hand, and with his eyes slyly fixed on Claude, he made without a
word for his bed-closet, entered it, and closed the door behind him.

His silence was strange, and his furtive manner impressed Claude
unpleasantly. They seemed to imply a knowledge that boded ill; nor was
the impression they made weakened when, two minutes later, the closet
door opened again, and he came out.

"What is it?" Claude asked, s