The archway archway into the inner room was behind Bruslart, but he did
not turn as the curtains parted. He knew the woman was hidden in that
room, she had gone there when Latour was announced; he knew that she
must have overheard the conversation, that she would ask questions, but
for the moment he was absorbed in Latour's news. That Rouzet had failed
to reach Beauvais was a disaster he had not reckoned upon.

"Lucien!"

"My direct and opinionated friend has gone, Pauline, you may come out of
hiding."

Still for a moment the woman stood there grasping the curtains, as
though she would will the man to turn and look at her. She was angry,
the flash in her eyes Was evidence of the fact, yet she was not
unconscious of the picture she made at that moment. A woman is seldom
angry enough to forget her beauty. Beautiful she certainly was, or
Lucien Bruslart would have taken little interest in her. Beauty was as
necessary to him as luxury, and in this case was even more dangerous.
Here was another proof that he was no coward, or he would surely not
have placed himself in the hands of Pauline Vaison. She was dark, her
figure rather full, voluptuous yet perfect in contour. Her movements
were quick, virile, full of life, seductive yet passionate. She was a
beautiful young animal, her graces all unstudied, nature's gifts, a
dangerous animal if roused, love concealing sharp claws ready to tear in
pieces if love were spurned. Her personality might have raised her to
power in the dissolute Court of the fifteenth Louis, even in this Paris
of revolution she might play a part.