Leroux, with keen, shifty eyes, was watching the play of emotions on Madame's haughty face. His mouth was distorted by a hideous grin of scorn and of arrogance. He knew well enough how completely he now had all these scheming aristocrats at his mercy. One word from him and he could send the lot to moulder in jail or else to the guillotine. But strive how he might, he could not perceive one single trait of fear in the cold, pale eyes which Madame kept fixed upon him; her calmness irritated him, even though he knew well enough that it only lay on the surface. An insensate desire seized him to see that proud lady cringe with terror, to see her blanch when he made her understand plainly the bond which existed between her and him. "Why have you come back?" queried Madame after a while. "Have you not realized that M. de Maurel might return, too, and that...?" "Well," retorted Leroux fiercely, "and if he does ... you don't want him in the way, I presume." She made no reply, but lifted her handkerchief up to her mouth in order to smother the cry which had so instinctively risen to her lips. "I thought," resumed the man gruffly, "that you would wish to know that, as far as I am concerned, the Marechal's interference will not affect our plans in any way. There's plenty of time between now and the close of day to talk things over with my mates. Do not be afraid, my fine lady, we are prepared for every eventuality." "Prepared?" she asked, and her voice sounded choked and hoarse. "Prepared?" she reiterated. "In what way do you mean?" "Well, we must assume that the Marechal is not coming down in force to-night to turn me out of my Lodge, mustn't we?" he queried with a snarl. "No ... I suppose not," she replied vaguely. "Well, then," he rejoined slowly, "we can deal with him easily enough if he is alone--what?" Once more Madame had to make a vigorous effort to repress a cry of horror. The combat which she was fighting with herself while the impudent wretch stood looking down on her, his hands buried in the pockets of his breeches, his feet planted wide apart, his whole attitude one of arrogance and of scorn--was, indeed, a bitter one. On one side were ranged her fanatical enthusiasm for a cause which she held to be as sacred as that of her faith, and her boundless belief in the efficacy of the coup which had been planned for this night. To jeopardize its success now at this eleventh hour, by allowing her sensibilities to overmaster her, would in her eyes have been akin to the blackest, the most dire treachery toward her King and her country.