of much.

The servant led him to a parlour, a cool shady room on the farther side
of the tiny quadrangle, and, muttering something inaudible, withdrew. A
moment later a frolicsome laugh, and the light flutter of a woman's skirt
as she tripped across the court, brought the blood to his cheeks. He
went a step nearer to the door, and his eyes grew bright.




CHAPTER X. MADAME ST. LO.


So far excitement had supported Tignonville in his escape. It was only
when he knew himself safe, when he heard Madame St. Lo's footstep in the
courtyard and knew that in a moment he would see her, that he knew also
that he was failing for want of food. The room seemed to go round with
him; the window to shift, the light to flicker. And then again, with
equal abruptness, he grew strong and steady and perfectly master of
himself. Nay, never had he felt a confidence in himself so overwhelming
or a capacity so complete. The triumph of that which he had done, the
knowledge that of so many he, almost alone, had escaped, filled his brain
with a delicious and intoxicating vanity. When the door opened, and
Madame St. Lo appeared on the threshold, he advanced holding out his
arms. He expected that she would fall into them.

But Madame only backed and curtseyed, a mischievous light in her eyes.

"A thousand thanks, Monsieur!" she said, "but you are more ready than I!"