For an instant they confronted each other. With a cynical sense of superiority, pleasant to himself, he read her delight at his unexpected request, carefully though she tried to disguise it, read her quickly banished doubt that he had penetrated her scheme, was counter-plotting. He could almost phrase her thankful prayer to God--begging for a continuance of the miracle--that the barbarian had thus delivered himself into the strong hands of her lover. He would surely come! Both as they stood thus silent were calculating the necessary minutes--but his calculation was a double one. With the politest of bows, he opened the door for her. Together they went through salon after salon, candlelit since he refused to have the shutters opened. In contrast with his previous manner, he displayed not the least haste. Leisurely he lingered over each piece, discussed it, appraised it with real connoisseurship as though he were merely a cultured guest. She loitered willingly, her brain on fire, every sense at strain. The precious moments were accumulating. She found new treasures for his admiration, racked her memory for rare objects that might hold him yet a little longer. He handled them, was enthusiastic, with calm audacity regretted this terrible war which imperilled so many beautiful things. Not once did he depart from his attitude of studied politeness. And while he spoke she was listening--listening--for the sudden shout, the quick close detonations, which should announce her deliverance. At any moment now! She glanced for the barbarian's weapon, her heart praying for _his_ safety. Out there beyond the shuttered windows he was coming in might at the head of his men. She seemed to see him--running towards her, past the Cupid-crowned fountain. She exulted in the crass absence of suspicion in the hatefully calm enemy at her side. Out there in the twilight the precincts of the château were being lined with grey-clad soldiers, settling themselves in hidden firing positions. The officer saw them, with experienced second-sight. He smiled, blandly. His prisoner loitered, desperately prolonging his happy preoccupation. When they returned to the salon it was to find another German officer waiting. Unseen by her, they exchanged a significant look. There was a sharp, hissing, ugly rush in the air and a loud crash in the courtyard. * * * * *