The town was quiet, and very dark where the smoky lamps were not hanging. Yet I wondered if it ever slept, for more than once we had to stand aside to give passage to a party of men, hurrying along with links and arms. Several times too, especially towards the end of our walk, I was surprised by the flashing of bright lights in a courtyard, the door of which stood half open to right or left. Once I saw the glow of torches reflected ruddily in the windows of a tall and splendid mansion, a little withdrawn from the street. The source of the light was in the fore-court, hidden from us by a low wall, but I caught the murmur of voices and stir of many feet. Once a gate was stealthily opened and two armed men looked out, the act and their manner of doing it, reminding me on the instant of those who had peeped out to inspect us some hours before in Bezers' house. And once, nay twice, in the mouth of a narrow alley I discerned a knot of men standing motionless in the gloom. There was an air of mystery abroad, a feeling as of solemn stir and preparation going on under cover of the darkness, which awed and unnerved me. But I said nothing of this, and Madame d'O was equally silent. Like most countrymen I was ready to believe in any exaggeration of the city's late hours, the more as she made no remark. I supposed--shaking off the momentary impression--that what I saw was innocent and normal. Besides, I was thinking what I should say to Pavannes when I saw him--in what terms I should warn him of his peril, and cast his perfidy in his teeth. We had hurried along in this way--and in absolute silence, save when some obstacle or pitfall drew from us an exclamation--for about a quarter of a mile, when my companion, turning into a slightly wider street, slackened her speed, and indicated by a gesture that we had arrived. A lamp hung over the porch, to which she pointed, and showed the small side gate half open. We were close behind the other three now. I saw Croisette stoop to enter and as quickly fall back a pace. Why? In a moment it flashed across my mind that we were too late that the Vidame had been before us. And yet how quiet it all was. Then I breathed freely again. I saw that Croisette had only stepped back to avoid some one who was coming out--the Coadjutor in fact. The moment the entrance was clear, the lad shot in, and the others after him, the priest taking no notice of them, nor they of him. I was for going in too, when I felt Madame d'O's hand tighten suddenly on my arm, and then fall from it. Apprised of something by this, I glanced at the priest's face, catching sight of it by chance just as his eyes met hers. His face was white--nay it was ugly with disappointment and rage, bitter snarling rage, that was hardly human. He grasped her by the arm roughly and twisted her round without ceremony, so as to draw her a few paces aside; yet not so far that I could not hear what they said.