"Bah!" Emérance exclaimed, "his looks count not." Nor, in truth, would the looks of any man in all the world have counted with this woman who had no thoughts or eyes for the beauty of any, or only one, man. Then, continuing, she said: "And that other? The lowest of them, as you term him. Where is he?" "He saddles his horse below. He rides to the Syndic to beseech his help in finding them; the Syndic whose lodge is outside the walls upon the route de France, a league or so from here. He does so, having spoken first with the venerable father of Madame la Marquise. The illustrious Seigneur de Châteaugrand." "Ah! yes. My father. The Seigneur de Châteaugrand!" and now there came a look upon her face vastly different from the look of a few minutes before--one which seemed to speak of some internal spasm of pain, or regret or self-reproach, so different from this which was one of irony, of contempt. "Where is he?" "He prepares to descend to madame from his room above. He wishes to know something of these strange doings. He will be here ere many moments more are past." "So be it. He will find me. Now make me ready for the day. Put out my clothes and toilette necessaries. My father," with a scornful smile, "hates ever to see a woman in disarray." That "father" made his appearance, as the maid had said would be the case, ere many moments were passed, yet when he did so the interview that was to take place--if it was an interview--was not of long duration. Emérance, who was in the bedroom in the hands of the maid when she heard the door of the salon open, called out to know if it was he, and, on discovering such to be the case, had her dress put on hastily and then went to him. After which, without salutation or greeting, she went close to Van den Enden and, speaking to him in almost a whisper--for, which there was scarcely any need since she had carefully shut the door between them and the maid--she said:-- "What is this report? And--what does it mean? Where are they all? All?" But the Jew made no reply. Which abstention from speech was, in truth, the most pregnant of replies. "I understand, or almost understand," Emérance whispered, while as she did so she stepped back some paces from Van den Enden and, perhaps unconsciously, drew the skirts of her gown closer round her. "We have been overheard, were overheard, and--and, after you left me last night you and La Truaumont discovered such to be the case. And--and--and----" But still Van den Enden uttered no word but stood looking strangely at the woman. "Ah," she gasped. "And De Beaurepaire? Louis? Is he safe? Will he be safe?" A moment later, though still the old man had uttered no word but only let his eyes meet hers, she murmured, "Ah! _malheur!_ Yet--yet--there is none to harm _him_ now." * * * * * * *