"Then," I replied, "impress the other thing upon them. Tell them that our swords are sharp and we are desperate." "I will see what I can do," he answered slowly. "The Duke of Cleves is expected here to-morrow, and the townsfolk feel they would be disgraced forever if he should find their gate held by a party of marauders, as they consider you." "The Duke of Cleves?" I repeated. "Perhaps he may be better affected toward us." "They will overpower you before he comes," Master Lindstrom answered despondently. "I would put no trust in him if I were you. But I will go to them, and, believe me, I will do all that man can do." "Of that I am sure," I said warmly. And then, cautioning me to remain strictly on the defensive, he left me. Before his footsteps had ceased to echo on the stairs the door beside me opened, and Mistress Anne appeared at it. I saw at once that his familiar voice had roused her from the stupor of fear in which I had last seen her. Her eyes were bright, her whole frame was thrilling with excitement, hope, suspense. I began to understand her; to discern beneath the disguise thrown over it in ordinary times by a strong will, the nervous nature which was always confident or despairing, which felt everything so keenly--everything, that is, which touched itself. "Well?" she cried, "well?" "Patience! patience!" I replied rather sharply. I could not help comparing her conduct with that of the Duchess, and blaming her, not for her timidity, but for the selfishness which she had betrayed in her fear. I could fancy Petronilla trembling and a coward, but not despairing nor utterly cast down, nor useless when others needed her, nor wrapped in her own terrors to the very exclusion of reason. "Patience!" I said; "he is coming back. He and his friends will do all they can for us. We must wait a while and hope, and keep a good lookout." She had her hand on the door, and by an abrupt movement, she slipped out to me and closed it behind her. This made the staircase so dark that I could no longer distinguish her face, but I judged from her tone that her fears were regaining possession of her. "Clarence," she muttered, her voice low and trembling. "Have you thought of him? Could not he help us? He may have followed us here, and may be here now. Now! And perhaps he does not know in what danger we are." "Clarence!" I said, astonished and almost angry. "Clarence help us? Go back, girl, go back. You are mad. He would be more likely to complete our ruin. Go in and nurse the baby!" I added bitterly. What could she mean, I asked myself, when she had gone in. Was there anything in her suggestion? Would Clarence follow us hither? If so, and if he should come in time, would he have power to help us, using such mysterious influence, Spanish or English, as he seemed to possess? And if he could help us, would it be better to fall into his hands than into those of the exasperated Santonese? I thought the Duchess would say "No!"