The abbe gave a low call, and almost instantly Perrot stood before them. Jessica recognised him. With a little cry she stepped to him quickly and placed her hand upon his arm. She did not seem conscious that he was her husband's enemy: her husband's life was in danger, and it must be saved at any cost. "Monsieur," she said, "where is my husband? You know. Tell me." Perrot put her hand from his arm gently, and looked at the priest in doubt and surprise. The abbe said not a word, but stood gazing off into the night. "Will you not tell me of my husband?" she repeated. "He is within that house?" She pointed to the manor-house. "He is in danger, I will go to him." She made as if to go to the door, but he stepped before her. "Madame," he said, "you cannot enter." Just then the moon shot from behind a cloud, and all their faces could be seen. There was a flame in Jessica's eyes which Perrot could not stand, and he turned away. She was too much the woman to plead weakly. "Tell me," she said, "whose house this is." "Madame, it is Monsieur Iberville's." She could not check a gasp, but both the priest and the woodsman saw how intrepid was the struggle in her, and they both pitied. "Now I understand! Oh, now I understand!" she cried. "A plot was laid. He was let escape that he might be cornered here--one single man against a whole country. Oh, cowards, cowards!" "Pardon me, madame," said Perrot, bristling up, "not cowards. Your husband has a chance for his life. You know Monsieur Iberville--he is a man all honour. More than once he might have had your husband's life, but he gave it to him." Her foot tapped the ground impatiently, her hands clasped before her. "Go on, oh, go on!" she said. "What is it? why is he here? Have you no pity, no heart?" She turned towards the priest. "You are a man of God. You said once that you would help me make peace between my husband and Monsieur Iberville, but you join here with his enemies." "Madame, believe me, you are wrong. I have done all I could: I have brought you here." "Yes, yes; forgive me," she replied. She turned to Perrot again. "It is with you, then. You helped to save my life once--what right have you to destroy it now? You and Monsieur Iberville gave me the world when it were easy to have lost it; now when the world is everything to me because my husband lives in it, you would take his life and break mine." Suddenly a thought flashed into her mind. Her eyes brightened, her hand trembled towards Perrot, and touched him. "Once I gave you something, monsieur, which I had worn on my own bosom. That little gift--of a grateful girl, tell me, have you it still?" Perrot drew from his doublet the medallion she had given him, and fingered it uncertainly.