pigmies, and he turned away; another moment they were all big, all the
women had raven hair, large hands and feet; he would never be able to
find the woman he sought. Then this scene faded and there came others,
some horrible, all fantastic; and always there came, sooner or later, a
woman, ugly, repulsive, masterful. She fascinated him. He was conscious
of struggling to free himself. He could not. Something, some
irresistible power, forced him to speak to her, to love her, to love
while he tried to hate, and her great dull eyes looked at him, rewarding
him. He knew her, forever hereafter must be possessed by her. This
horrible woman, this Jeanne St. Clair, was his fate. Nightmare was his
long after the day had broken and men and women were abroad in Beauvais.




CHAPTER IV

MADEMOISELLE ST. CLAIR


Sharp hammering at the door, long continued, finally brought an end to
Barrington's nightmare hours and Seth's deep slumbers. The sun was
streaming in through the little window, revealing the dust and the
dilapidation of this lodging. Seth went to the door.

"Ma foi, I thought you had started on your last long journey," said the
proprietor of the house. "My knuckles are sore with knocking. Monsieur
le Comte bid me give you this card. You would understand and pay, he
said."