face wasn’t any paler than usual but she was clawing the dress over her chest with her ten fingers--like this. I was confounded. Before I could find my tongue she just turned round and went out with no more sound than a shadow.” When Peyrol ceased, the ringing of the church bell went on faintly and then stopped as abruptly as it had begun. “Talking about her shadow,” said the young officer indolently, “I know her shadow.” Old Peyrol made a really pronounced movement. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Where?” “I have got only one window in the room where they put me to sleep last night and I stood at it looking out. That’s what I am here for--to look out, am I not? I woke up suddenly, and being awake I went to the window and looked out.” “One doesn’t see shadows in the air,” growled old Peyrol. “No, but you see them on the ground, pretty black too when the moon is full. It fell across this open space here from the corner of the house.” “The patronne,” exclaimed Peyrol in a low voice, “impossible!” “Does the old woman that lives in the kitchen roam, do the village women roam as far as this?” asked the officer composedly. “You ought to know the habits of the people. It was a woman’s shadow. The moon being to the west, it glided slanting from that corner of the house and glided back again. I know her shadow when I see it.” “Did you hear anything?” asked Peyrol after a moment of visible hesitation. “The window being open, I heard somebody snoring. It couldn’t have been you, you are too high. Moreover, from the snoring,” he added grimly, “it must have been somebody with a good conscience. Not like you, old skimmer of the seas, because, you know, that’s what you are, for all your gunner’s warrant.” He glanced out of the corner of his eyes at old Peyrol. “What makes you look so worried?” “She roams, that cannot be denied,” murmured Peyrol, with an uneasiness which he did not attempt to conceal. “Evidently. I know a shadow when I see it, and when I saw it, it did not frighten me, not a quarter as much as the mere tale of it seems to have frightened you. However, that sans-culotte friend of yours must be a hard sleeper. Those purveyors of the guillotine all have a first-class fireproof Republican conscience. I have seen them at work up north when I was a boy running bare-foot in the gutters....” “The fellow always sleeps in that room,” said Peyrol earnestly. “But that’s neither here nor there,” went on the officer, “except that it may be convenient for roaming shadows to hear his conscience taking its ease.” Peyrol, excited, lowered his voice forcibly. “Lieutenant,” he said, “if I had not seen from the first what was in your heart I would have contrived to get rid of you a long time ago in some way or other.”