pered. 'And she would have stopped
him saying what he did'--a shudder ran through my mother's frame at the
remembrance of the man's words, though her eyes still gazed into mine
with faith and confidence--'she would have stopped him, but she could
not, Gaston. And then he hurried her away.'

'He showed her a token, madame, did he not?' I could not for my life
repress the question, so much seemed to turn on the point.

'A bit of gold,' my mother whispered, smiling faintly. 'Now let me
sleep.' And, clinging always to my hand, she closed her eyes.

The student came back soon afterwards with some comforts for which I had
despatched him, and we sat by her until the evening fell, and far into
the night. It was a relief to me to learn from the leech that she had
been ailing for some time, and that in any case the end must have
come soon. She suffered no pain and felt no fears, but meeting my
eyes whenever she opened her own, or came out of the drowsiness which
possessed her, thanked God, I think, and was content. As for me, I
remember that room became, for the time, the world. Its stillness
swallowed up all the tumults which filled the cities of France, and
its one interest the coming and going of a feeble breath--eclipsed the
ambitions and hopes of a lifetime.

Before it grew light Simon Fleix stole out to attend to the horses. When
he returned he came to me and whispered in my ear that he had something
to tell me; and my mother lying in a quiet sleep at the time, I
disengaged my hand, and, rising softly, went with him to the hearth.

Instead of speaking, he held his fist before me and suddenly unclosed
the fingers. 'Do you know it?' he said, glancing at me abruptly.

I took what he held, and looking at it, nodded. It was a knot of velvet
of a peculiar dark red colour, and had formed, as I knew the moment I
set eyes on it, part of the fastening of mademoiselle's mask. 'Where
did you find it?' I muttered, supposing that he had picked it up on the
stairs.

'Look at it!' he answered impatiently. 'You have not looked.'

I turned it over, and then saw something which had escaped me at
first--that the wider part of the velvet was disfigured by a fantastic
stitching, done very roughly and rudely with a thread of white silk.
The stitches formed letters, the letters words. With a start I read, 'A
MOI!' and saw in a corner, in smaller stitches, the initials 'C. d. l.
V.'

I looked eagerly at the student. 'Where did you find th