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The Elusive Pimpernel by Baroness Emmuska Orczy
page 64 of 335 (19%)
draperies, and with the streaming sunshine as a brilliant background
behind him, stood the sable-clad figure of Chauvelin.





Chapter VII : Premonition



Marguerite neither moved nor spoke. She felt two pairs of eyes fixed
upon her, and with all the strength of will at her command she forced the
very blood in her veins not to quit her cheeks, forced her eyelids not to
betray by a single quiver the icy pang of a deadly premonition which at
sight of Chauvelin seemed to have chilled her entire soul.

There he stood before her, dressed in his usual somber garments, a look
almost of humility in those keen grey eyes of his, which a year ago on the
cliffs of Calais had peered down at her with such relentless hate.

Strange that at this moment she should have felt an instinct of fear. What
cause had she to throw more than a pitiful glance at the man who had
tried so cruelly to wrong her, and who had so signally failed?

Having bowed very low and very respectfully, Chauvelin advanced
towards her, with all the airs of a disgraced courtier craving audience
from his queen.

As he approached she instinctively drew back.
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