It seemed to me as if there had been a sudden roaring noise and then these last dreadful words coming coldly upon a great silence. At that moment everything stamped itself ineffaceably on my brain. I see myself grasp the back of a chair, that I may stand with the more irreproachable steadiness. I see Madame’s curious scrutiny. I see Yvonne’s eyes, which had swiftly sought my face as the words were spoken, change and warm to mine for the least fraction of a second. I see all this now, and her slim form unspeakably graceful against the dark wainscoting of the chimney side. Then it all seemed to swim, and I knew that it was with great effort of will I steadied myself; and at last I perceived that Yvonne was holding both Anderson and her father in rapt attention by a sort of radiance of light speech and dainty gesture. I dimly came to understand that Yvonne had seen in my face something which she had not looked to see there, and, moved to compassion, had come to my aid and covered up my hurt. In a moment more I was master of myself, but I knew that Madame’s eyes had never left me. She liked me more than a little; but a certain mirthful malice, which she had retained from the old gay days in France, made her cruel whensoever one afforded her the spectacle of a tragedy. All this takes long in the telling; but it was perhaps not above a minute ere I was able to perceive that Mademoiselle’s diversion had been upon the theme of one’s duty to one’s enemies. What she had said I knew not, nor know I to this day; but I will wager it was both witty and wise. I only know that at this point a direct appeal was made to me. “You, monsieur,” said Anderson, in his measured tones, “will surely grant that it is always virtuous, and often possible, to love one’s enemies.” “But never prudent!” interjected De Lamourie, whose bitter experiences in Paris colored his conclusions. “Your testimony, monsieur, as that of one who has sent so many of them to Paradise, is much to be desired upon this subject,” exclaimed Yvonne, in a tone of challenge, at the same time flashing over me a look which worked upon me like a wizard’s spell, making me straightway strong and ready. “Well may we love them!” I cried, with an air of sober mockery. “Our enemies are our opportunities; and without our opportunities, where are we?” “All our life is our opportunity, and if we be brave and faithful to church and king we are made great by it,” exclaimed a harsh, intense voice behind us.