culated so fiercely that I started. 'It was to me--to
me you did it! What had I done that you should expose me to the ridicule
of those who know no pity, and the anger of one as merciless? What had I
done, sir?'

I shook my head sorrowfully. 'So far, madame,' I answered, 'I allow I
owe you reparation, and I will make it should it ever be in my power.
Nay, I will say more,' I continued, for the tone in which she spoke had
wrung my heart. 'In one point I strained the case against your husband.
To the best of my belief he abducted the lady who was in my charge,
not for the love of her, but for political reasons, and as the agent of
another.'

She gasped. 'What?' she cried. 'Say that again!'

As I complied she tore off her mask and gazed into my face with
straining eyes and parted lips. I saw then how much she was changed,
even in these few days--how pale and worn were her cheeks, how dark
the circles round her eyes. 'Will you swear to it?' she said at last,
speaking with uncontrollable eagerness, while she laid a hand which
shook with excitement on my arm. Will you swear to it, sir?'

'It is true,' I answered steadfastly. I might have added that after the
event her husband had so treated mademoiselle as to lead her to fear the
worst. But I refrained, feeling that it was no part of my duty to come
between husband and wife.

She clasped her hands, and for a moment looked passionately upwards, as
though she were giving thanks to Heaven; while the flesh of health and
loveliness which I had so much admired returned, and illumined her
face in a wonderful manner. She seemed, in truth and for the moment,
transformed. Her blue eyes filled with tears, her lips moved; nor have
I ever seen anything bear so near a resemblance to those pictures of the
Virgin Mary which Romans worship as madame did then.

The change, however, was as evanescent as it was admirable. In an
instant she seemed to collapse. She struck her hands to her face and
moaned, and I saw tears, which she vainly strove to restrain, dropping
through her fingers. 'Too late!' she murmured, in a tone of anguish
which wrung my heart. 'Alas, you robbed me of one man, you give me back
another. I know him now for what he is. If he did not love her then, he
does now. It is too late!'

She seemed so much overcome that I assisted her to reach a bench which
stood against the wall a few paces away; nor, I confess, was it without
difficulty and much self-reproach that I limite