And opening the door herself, for the others would not, she called. The man who answered was a Norman; and short of stature, and wrinkled and low- browed of feature, with a thatch of hair and a full beard, he seemed the embodiment of the women's apprehensions. Moreover, his _patois_ of the cider-land was little better than German to them; their southern, softer tongue was sheer Italian to him. But he seemed not ill-disposed, or Mademoiselle's air overawed him; and presently she made him understand, and with a nod he descended to carry her message. Then Mademoiselle's heart began to beat; and beat more quickly when she heard _his_ step--alas! she knew it already, knew it from all others--on the stairs. The table was set, the card must be played, to win or lose. It might be that with the low opinion he held of women he would think her reconciled to her lot; he would think this an overture, a step towards kinder treatment, one more proof of the inconstancy of the lower and the weaker sex, made to be men's playthings. And at that thought her eyes grew hot with rage. But if it were so, she must still put up with it. She must still put up with it! She had sent for him, and he was coming--he was at the door! He entered, and she breathed more freely. For once his face lacked the sneer, the look of smiling possession, which she had come to know and hate. It was grave, expectant, even suspicious; still harsh and dark, akin, as she now observed, to the low-browed, furrowed face of the rider who had summoned him. But the offensive look was gone, and she could breathe. He closed the door behind him, but he did not advance into the room. "At your pleasure, Mademoiselle?" he said simply. "You sent for me, I think." She was on her feet, standing before him with something of the submissiveness of Roxana before her conqueror. "I did," she said; and stopped at that, her hand to her side as if she could not continue. But presently in a low voice, "I have heard," she went on, "what you said, Monsieur, after I lost consciousness." "Yes?" he said; and was silent. Nor did he lose his watchful look. "I am obliged to you for your thought of me," she continued in a faint voice, "and I shall be still further obliged--I speak to you thus quickly and thus early--if you will grant me a somewhat longer time." "Do you mean--if I will postpone our marriage?" "Yes, Monsieur." "It is impossible!" "Do not say that," she cried, raising her voice impulsively. "I appeal to your generosity. And for a short, a very short, time only." "It is impossible," he answered quietly. "And for reasons, Mademoiselle. In the first place, I can more easily protect my wife. In the second, I am even now summoned to the Louvre, and should be on my way thither. By to-morrow evening, unless I am mistaken in the business on which I am required, I shall be on my way to a distant province with royal letters. It is essential that our marriage take place before I go."