Eugenie also recognised the stranger; and there was something in their relative positions--the suppliant, the protectress--that excited both her imagination and her pity. A slight colour mantled to her cheeks--her look was gentle and compassionate. “Poor boy! so young!” she said. “Hush!” She withdrew her hand from his, retired a few steps, lifted a curtain drawn across a recess--and pointing to an alcove that contained one of those sofa-beds common in French houses, added in a whisper,-- “Enter--you are saved.” Morton obeyed, and Eugenie replaced the curtain. CHAPTER XIII. GUIOMAR. “Speak! What are you?” RUTILIO. “Gracious woman, hear me. I am a stranger: And in that I answer all your demands.” Custom of the Country. Eugenie replaced the curtain. And scarcely had she done so ere the steps in the outer room entered the chamber where she stood. Her servant was accompanied by two officers of the police. “Pardon, madame,” said one of the latter; “but we are in pursuit of a criminal. We think he must have entered this house through a window above while your servant was in the street. Permit us to search?” “Without doubt,” answered Eugenie, seating herself. “If he has entered, look in the other apartments. I have not quitted this room.” “You are right. Accept our apologies.” And the officers turned back to examine every corner where the fugitive was not. For in that, the scouts of Justice resembled their mistress: when does man’s justice look to the right place? The servant lingered to repeat the tale he had heard--the sight he had seen. When, at that instant, he saw the curtain of the alcove slightly stirred. He uttered an exclamation--sprung to the bed--his hand touched the curtain--Eugenie seized his arm. She did not speak; but as he turned his eyes to her, astonished, he saw that she trembled, and that her cheek was as white as marble. “Madame,” he said, hesitating, “there is some one hid in the recess.” “There is! Be silent!” A suspicion flashed across the servant’s mind. The pure, the proud, the immaculate Eugenie! “There is!--and in madame’s chamber!” he faltered unconsciously. Eugenie’s quick apprehensions seized the foul thought. Her eyes flashed--her cheek crimsoned. But her lofty and generous nature conquered even the indignant and scornful burst that rushed to her lips. The truth!--could she trust the man? A doubt--and the charge of the human life rendered to her might be betrayed. Her colour fell--tears gushed to her eyes. “I have been kind to you, Francois. Not a word.” “Madame confides in me--it is enough,” said the Frenchman, bowing, with a slight smile on his lips; and he drew back respectfully. One of the police officers re-entered. “We have done, madame; he is not here. Aha! that curtain!” “It is madame’s bed,” said Francois. “But I have looked behind.”