which were now turned towards her, but no one, for the moment, spoke
or stirred. Juliette, silent and ashamed, had taken Marguerite's hand in
hers, and was clinging to it as if wishing to draw strength of character
and firmness of purpose through the pores of the other woman's delicate
skin.

Sir Percy with backbone still bent in a sweeping curve had not relaxed his
attitude of uttermost deference. The Prince of Wales and his friends
were viewing the scene with slightly amused aloofness.

For a moment--seconds at most--there was dead silence in the room,
during which time it almost seemed as if the beating of several hearts
could be distinctly heard.

Then Chauvelin, courtly and urbane, stepped calmly forward.

"Believe me, Citizeness," he said, addressing Candeille directly and with
marked emphasis, "I am entirely at your command, but am I not helpless,
seeing that those who have so grossly insulted you are of your own
irresponsible, if charming, sex?"

Like a great dog after a nap, Sir Percy Blakeney straightened his long
back and stretched it out to its full length.

"La!" he said pleasantly, "my ever engaging friend from Calais. Sir, your
servant. Meseems we are ever destined to discuss amiable matters, in an
amiable spirit. ... A glass of punch, Monsieur ... er ... Chauvelin?"

"I must ask you, Sir Percy," rejoined Chauvelin sternly, "to view this
matter with becoming seriousness."