whimpered, and Madame Carlat slumbered, her broad back propped against the wall.
Suddenly Mademoiselle opened her eyes, and saw, three steps below her, a strange man whose upward way she barred. Behind him came Carlat, and behind him Bigot, lighting both; and in the confusion of her thoughts as she rose to her feet the three, all staring at her in a common amazement, seemed a company. The air entering through the open window beside her blew the flame of the candle this way and that, and added to the nightmare character of the scene; for by the shifting light the men seemed to laugh one moment and scowl the next, and their shadows were now high and now low on the wall. In truth, they were as much amazed at coming on her in that place as she at their appearance; but they were awake, and she newly roused from sleep; and the advantage was with them.
“What is it?” she cried in a panic. “What is it?”
“If Mademoiselle will return to her room?” one of the men said courteously.
“But—what is it?” She was frightened.
“If Mademoiselle”
Then she turned without more and went back into the room, and the three followed, and her woman and Madame Carlat. She stood resting one hand on the table while Javette with shaking fingers lighted the candles. Then—
“Now, Monsieur,” she said in a hard voice, “if you will tell me your business?”
“You do not know me?” The stranger’s eyes dwelt kindly and pitifully on her.
She looked at him steadily, crushing down the fears which knocked at her heart.
“No,” she said. “And yet I think I have seen you.”
“You saw me a week last Sunday,” the stranger answered sorrowfully. “My name is La Tribe. I preached that day,
