He looked at her, mastering his emotion with difficulty. "_Madame, Monsieur Pierre_ has sentiments the most profound. He feel--_passionnément_. He try to hide his sentiments from me. But me--I know. He sit alone in the great hall and look--and look. He sleep--never at all. He will not even go to bed. And in the great hall is an _escritoire_, and in it a drawer." Victor's voice sank mysteriously. "To-night--when he think he is alone--he open that drawer, and I see inside. It hold a revolver, _madame_. And he look at it, touch it, and then shake his head. But I am so afraid--so afraid. So--_enfin_--in my trouble I come to you. You have the influence with him, is it not so? You have--the power to console. _Madame--chère madame_--will you not come and speak with him for five little minutes? Just to encourage him, _madame_, in his sadness; for he is all alone!" The tears ran down Victor's troubled face as he made his earnest appeal. He mopped them openly, making no secret of his distress which was too pathetic to be ludicrous. Avery looked at him in dismay. She knew not what to say or do; and even as she stood irresolute the hall-clock struck eleven through the silence of the house. Victor watched her anxiously. "_Madame_ is married," he insinuated. "She can please herself, no? And _Monsieur Pierre_--" "Wait a minute, please!" she interrupted gently. "I want to think." She went to the unlatched door and stood with her face to the night. She felt as if a call had come to her, but somehow--for no selfish reason--she hesitated to answer. Some unknown influence held her back. Victor came softly up and stood close to her. "_Madame_," he said in a whisper, "I tell you a secret--I, Victor, who have known _Monsieur Pierre_ from his infancy. He loves you, _madame_. He loves you much. _C'est la grande passion_ which comes only once in a life--only once." The low words went through her, seeming to sink into her very heart. She made a slight, involuntary gesture as of wincing. There was something in them that was almost more than she could bear. She stood motionless with the chill night air blowing in upon her, trying to collect her thoughts, trying to bring herself to face and consider the matter before she made her decision. But it was useless. Those last words had awaked within her a greater force than she could control. From the moment of their utterance she was driven irresistibly, the decision was no longer her own. Piers was alone. Piers loved her--wanted her. His soul cried to hers through the darkness. She saw him again as in her dream wrestling with those cruel iron bars, striving with vain agony to reach her. And all doubt went from her like a cloud. She turned to Victor with grey eyes shining and resolute. "Let us go!" she said. She took a cloak from a peg in the hall, lowered the light, took the key from the lock, and passed out into the dark.