face! But changed. Even while she sank gasping against the
wall--for the surprise was too much for her--even while he took the lamp
from her shaking hand and supported her, and relief and joy began to
run like wine through her veins, she knew it. The forceful look, the
tightened lips, the eyes gleaming with determination--all were new to
her. They gave him an aspect so old, so strange, that when he had kissed
her once she put him from her.

"What is it?" she said. "Oh, Claude! What is it? What has happened?"

Letting a smile appear--but such a smile as did not reassure her--he
signed to her to go before him downstairs. She complied; but at the foot
of the first flight she stopped, unable to bear the suspense longer. She
turned to him again. "What is it?" she cried. "Something has happened?"

"Something is happening," he answered. His eyes shone, exultant. "But it
is a matter for others! We may be easy!"

"What is it?"

"The Savoyards are in Geneva."

She started incredulously. "In Geneva? Here?" she exclaimed. "The
enemy?"

He nodded.

"Here? In Geneva?" she repeated. She could not have heard aright.

"Yes."

But she still looked at him; she could not reconcile his words with his
manner. This, the greatest calamity that could happen, this which she
had been brought up to fear as the worst and most awful of
catastrophes--could he talk of it, could he announce it after this
fashion? With a smile, in a tone of pleasantry? He must be playing with
her. She passed her hand over her eyes, and tried to be calm. "But all
is quiet?" she said.

"All is quiet now," he answered. "After midnight the trouble will
begin."

Still she could not understand him. His face said one thing, his voice
another. Besides, the town was quiet: no sound of riot or disturbance,
no clash of steel, no tramp of feet penetrated the walls. And the house
stood on the ramparts where the first alarm must be given. "Do you
mean," she asked at last, her eyes fixed steadfastly on him, "that they
are going to attack the town after midnight?"

"They are here now," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "They scaled
the wall after the guard had gone round at eleven, and they are lying by
tens and twenties along the outer side of the Corraterie, waiting for
the hour and the signal."

She passed her hand across her closed eyes, and looked again,
perplexedly. "And you," she said, "you? I do not understand. If this be
so, what are you doing here?"