‘In here: not a word—not a motion as you value life.’ Louise obeyed mechanically, and as the door closed upon her, Gaudin de Sainte-Croix entered.
Marie threw herself into his arms; all her jealousy for the moment vanished on finding herself once more at his side.
‘You are free then?’ she asked, after this passionate greeting.
‘For the time, Marie,’ replied Gaudin. ‘I have appeased Desgrais with part of the money I raised on your carcanet. I did not find the exempt so relentless as my new creditor, your brother François.’
‘François!’ exclaimed the Marchioness. ‘He is here—in the next room!’
‘I knew it,’ said Sainte-Croix, ‘or I should not have employed four thousand francs to grease the palm of the exempt. I came to speak with him—to tell him to his teeth that he had disgraced the name of gentleman by that attempt to crush me.’
As he spoke he stepped towards the door communicating with the landing-place, as if to carry his threat into execution. Marie laid her hand upon his arm.
‘Do not go in, Gaudin,’ she said; ‘there will be bloodshed. He is surrounded by his friends and neighbours. You will be murdered!’
‘I care not,’ exclaimed Sainte-Croix, ‘I shall not fall alone,’ and he pressed on towards the door.
‘There is another way,’ said Marie, as she pointed to the casket which still stood on her table. ‘This.’