Up to that moment Ralph had been feeling but a moderate apprehension. The danger only threatened him and Josephine. For his part, he trusted to his cleverness and lucky star; and as for Josephine, he knew that she was quite capable of defending herself against Beaumagnan. But Clarice! Confronted by Josephine Balsamo, Clarice was a mere victim at the mercy of the treachery and cruelty of an enemy. And from that moment his fear was mingled with a kind of physical horror, which actually made his hair stand upright on his head and gave him what is vulgarly called goose-flesh. The implacable face of Leonard also added to his fear. He remembered the Widow Rousselin and her crushed fingers. Truly he had seen clearly ahead when, coming to the meeting-place an hour before, he guessed that the great battle was before him and that he would come to grips with Josephine. Up to now they had had mere skirmishes, mere affairs of outposts. Now it was a struggle to the death between all these opposing forces; and he was confronting them with his hands bound, a rope round his neck, and this additional enfeeblement with which the coming of Clarice afflicted him. “I’ve a lot to learn yet,” he said to himself with a groan. “I’m chiefly responsible for this horrible situation, and Clarice is once more my victim.” The young girl stood speechless before the threat of the revolver which Leonard leveled at her. She had come on light feet, as one comes to meet someone one is glad to see again, and had stumbled into the midst of this scene of violence and crime, while the man she loved stood before her bound and motionless. She stammered: “What’s the matter, Ralph? Why are you tied up like that?” She stretched out her hands towards him, as much as to ask his help as to offer him hers. But what could either of them do? He noticed her worn features and the extreme lassitude of her bearing; and he could hardly refrain from tears at the thought of the painful confession her father had torn from her. But, in spite of everything, he said with imperturbable assurance: “I’ve nothing to be frightened of, Clarice, no more have you. Absolutely nothing. I answer for everything.” She looked round at the others and was astonished to recognize Beaumagnan. She said timidly to Leonard: “What is it you want? This is rather terrifying. Who was it made me come here?” “I did, Mademoiselle,” said Josephine. Clarice had already been struck by Josephine’s beauty. A scrap of hope came to her at the thought that nothing but help and protection could come from so beautiful a creature. “Who are you, Madam? I don’t think I know you,” she said timidly. “I know you,” said Josephine, whom the grace and sweetness of the young girl seemed to irritate, though she kept her anger under control. “You’re the daughter of Baron d’Etigues.... I know, too, that you’re in love with Ralph d’Andresy.” Clarice blushed but did not deny it.