THE UNMASKING
her to the shocks of war. Had he no kindness, no clemency or compassion? Was it, after all, a mistake that she should have given this man her solicitude and confidence?
A knock at the door fell almost as loudly upon her ears as the crash of ordnance had done. When a second and sharper knock resounded, she summoned her voice to answer.
“Madame, it is I,” came in low tones from without. “If you can find it convenient to open—”
At the sound of the voice she gained courage. Monsieur had come to her. Trembling, yet still undismayed, she crept to the door and opened it.
The face of the Frenchman was dark and impassive. If the night had brought a new resolution to her, it was plain that monsieur was in no wise different from yesterday. All this she noted while her hand still clung falteringly to the knob of the door.
“Madame,” he began, “the matter is most urgent. If it will please you to follow me—”
Mistress Barbara with difficulty found her tongue.
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