"I tell you, Crystal," he said, "that you cannot go. I will do all that lies in my power in the matter: I promise you: and Maurice," he added harshly, "if he has a spark of manhood left in him will do his best to second me . . . but I cannot allow my daughter to go into the streets at this hour of the night." "But you cannot prevent your sister from doing as she likes," here broke in a tart voice from the back of the corridor. "Crystal, child! try and bear up while I run to the English hospital first and, if necessary, to the English doctor afterwards. And you, Monsieur my brother, be good enough to allow Jeanne to open the door for me." And Madame la Duchesse d'Agen in bonnet and shawl, helpful and practical, made her way quietly to the door, preceded by faithful Jeanne. With a cry of infinite relief--almost of happiness--Crystal at last managed to disengage herself from her father's grasp and ran to the old woman: "_Ma tante_," she said imploringly, "take me with you . . . if I do not go to find him now . . . at once . . . my heart will break." M. le Comte shrugged his shoulders and stood aside. He knew that in an argument with his sister, he would surely be worsted: and there was a look in Madame's face which, even in this dim twilight, he knew how to interpret. It meant that Madame would carry out her programme just as she had stated it, and that she would take Crystal with her--with or without the father's consent. So, realising this, M. le Comte had but one course left open to him and that was to safeguard his own dignity by making the best of this situation--of which he still highly disapproved. "Well, my dear Sophie," he said, "I suppose if you insist on having your way, you must have it: though what the women of our rank are coming to nowadays I cannot imagine. At the same time I for my part must insist that Crystal at least puts on a bonnet and shawl and does not career about the streets dressed like a kitchen wench." "Crystal," whispered Madame, who was nothing if not practical, "do as your father wishes--it will save a lot of argument and save time as well." But even before the words were out of Madame's mouth, Crystal was running along the corridor--ready to obey. At the foot of the stairs St. Genis intercepted her. "Let me pass!" she cried wildly. "Not before you have said that you have forgiven me!" he entreated as he clung to her white draperies with a passionate gesture of appeal. An exclamation which was almost one of loathing escaped her lips and with a jerk she freed her skirt from his clutch. Then she ran quickly up the stairs. Outside the door of her own room on the first landing she paused for one minute, and from out of the gloom her voice came to him like the knell of passing hope. "If he comes back alive out of the hell to which you condemned him," she said, "I may in the future endure the sight of you again. . . . If he dies . . . may God forgive you!"