"Ah! not that," she cried, "not that! If I distrust him, I distrust you still more. Your pretty face may look sad and sorrowful, and you may declare to me that you will never consent, but I will wait and see. I'll wait until Boris returns and confront you with him. Then perhaps I shall learn the real truth." Natalie made a little despairing gesture with her hands; argument, she saw, would be useless. Gathering herself together, Madame blundered, half blind with tears, out of the room, and Natalie with a sinking heart heard the bolts drawn again. All through the day Estelle sat brooding, sending Natalie's lunch and tea up to her by Michael. All the evening she still sat and brooded, until she had worked herself up into a hysteria of rage. It was long after dark when a knock sounded on her door. It was Boris. "Ah!" she cried, as he entered, "what do you think I have gone through? What do you think I have suffered? What do you think I have found out?" Boris looked at her in alarm. "Is it Mademoiselle?" he asked. "Is she safe?" "Safe! Oh, yes, she is safe," she cried, with a peal of uncanny laughter. "Safe for your kisses and for your caresses. Oh, you liar! you liar! I have been true to you in all respects, and you have been false to me in everything that mattered. So you will marry the pretty Natalie, will you? Oh, but you won't! Never! Never!" She rushed at Boris, as though to strike him, but Boris, jaded though he was, was quick and strong. He caught her brutally, as he might a dog, by the neck, and threw her into the dining-room, the door of which stood open, and, utterly careless as to what harm he might do to her, sent the unhappy woman sprawling onto the floor. In a second he had banged the door to and turned the key in the lock. He heard Estelle pick herself up and hurl herself in blind and impotent fury against the door. He listened as shriek after shriek of frenzy reached his ears. Up in the tower Natalie heard these shrieks, too, and shuddered. A horrible fear took possession of her heart that there was murder being done below. She sat on the edge of her bed with her hands pressed to her heart, listening in fascinated horror. The shrieks died away, and there was complete silence in the house for full half an hour. Then she heard a sudden shout, a crashing of glass and a scrambling, tearing noise, the hideous bay of the boarhounds in the court-yard, a scream, and a thud. Stabbing the other noise with sharp precision came the sound of shots. CHAPTER XXV Meanwhile, at the estate of Peter Vseslavitch, the day dawned clear and fine--but upon what a scene of uproar! All night the household had been corked up as if tight in a bottle--as far as following the marauders was concerned; for when, a few minutes after that last intimidating shot of Virot's, they had burst out of the house and run quickly to the stables, it was only to discover that all the horses were gone.