Still I would not hasten the evil day, and I lingered near the inner door, hoping; but the Marquis, on reaching the middle of the room, mounted a chair and turned round; and so contrived still to face me. The mob of gentlemen formed themselves round him, the younger and more tumultuous uttering cries of "_Vive la Noblesse!_" And a fringe of ladies encircled all. The lights, the brilliant dresses and jewels on which they shone, the impassioned faces, the waving kerchiefs and bright eyes, rendered the scene one to be remembered, though at the moment I was conscious only of St. Alais' gaze. "Messieurs," he cried, "draw your swords, if you please!" They flashed out at the word, with a steely glitter which the mirrors reflected; and M. de St. Alais passed his eye slowly round, while all waited for the word. He stopped; his eye was on me. "M. de Saux," he said politely, "we are waiting for you." Naturally all turned to me. I strove to mutter something, and signed to him with my hand to go on. But I was too much confused to speak clearly; my only hope was that he would comply, out of prudence. But that was the last thing he thought of doing. "Will you take your place, Monsieur?" he said smoothly. Then I could escape no longer. A hundred eyes, some impatient, some merely curious, rested on me. My face burned. "I cannot do so," I answered. There fell a great silence from one end of the room to the other. "Why not, Monsieur, if I may ask?" St. Alais said still smoothly. "Because I am not--entirely at one with you," I stammered, meeting all eyes as bravely as I could. "My opinions are known, M. de St. Alais," I went on more steadfastly. "I cannot swear." He stayed with his hand a dozen who would have cried out upon me. "Gently, Messieurs," he said, with a gesture of dignity, "gently, if you please. This is no place for threats. M. de Saux is my guest; and I have too great a respect for him not to respect his scruples. But I think that there is another way. I shall not venture to argue with him myself. But--Madame," he continued, smiling as he turned with an inimitable air to his mother, "I think that if you would permit Mademoiselle de St. Alais to play the recruiting-sergeant--for this one time--she could not fail to heal the breach." A murmur of laughter and subdued applause, a flutter of fans and women's eyes greeted the proposal. But, for a moment, Madame la Marquise, smiling and sphinx-like, stood still, and did not speak. Then she turned to her daughter, who, at the mention of her name, had cowered back, shrinking from sight. "Go, Denise," she said simply. "Ask M. de Saux to honour you by becoming your recruit."