"My God!" And with a shudder she put her hands to her face, and the letter fluttered down to the carpet. Stooping, I picked it up, and continued: "The Queen, however, is more merciful than you, and even you have your uses, madame, so that her Majesty will overlook your crimes, upon a condition." And I stopped. For a space she stood in silence, her head bowed, and her face covered. At last she slowly put down her hands, and looked at me. Such a look! "What is your condition?" "It is not mine. I begged for your pity, and you denied me. This is the mercy of the Queen to you--the mercy of the woman you have wronged." "Enough of that! What are the terms? Am I to be kept here waiting for ever?" "Simply that Mademoiselle de Paradis is restored to the Queen unhurt, and fully pardoned, within twenty-four hours." She bit her under lip till her white teeth left a vivid mark on it as I spoke, and then with an outbreak of wolfish fury: "I will not! I will not!" And she stamped her foot. "She shall die--whatever happens--do you hear?" "Perfectly! And in half an hour, I promise you, you will be arrested, and the story of your shame known to all. Do you think women like you have an empire that lasts for ever? You should take a lesson from the past, madame. Once the King's eyes are opened, and they will be in twelve hours, you will stand alone. But you have made your choice, and I will take your answer to the Queen." With that I bowed, and made for the door. Ere I had gone half the length of the room, however, she called me back. "Stay!" I turned slowly, and faced her once more. "Is it any use? You have answered me." "No; I have not." Her voice was half strangled, and there were tears of anger and mortification in her eyes. "No; I have not," she repeated; and then gasped out: "I will do what you wish; but I want those letters back." "That rests with the Queen. She makes no terms with you, and in that you must throw yourself on her pity." With a low cry she suddenly flung herself down on the cushions, biting at them in impotent fury with her strong white teeth and tearing at the embroidery with her fingers. It was the fury of despair. It was the senseless rage of an animal, and I stood and watched, feeling that a desperate game was won, and almost pitying her, murderess, and worse, though she was. After a while she looked up at me, her face haggard, her eyes livid. "Have you no pity?" she moaned. "Are you made of steel?" "Come, madame! I await your answer, and time presses." She gave me a deadly glance, and rose slowly, clasping and unclasping he hands convulsively. At last she said: "Very well. You shall have the pardon." "In that case, madame, I am to say that your papers will be returned to you." "Enough!" And with another burst of anger: "And now go--begone!"