She drew nearer to a candelabra, and the little white hands impatiently broke the seals and shook the sheets asunder.
Sir Thomas, attracted by his favourite's raised tones and uneasy at her non-appearance, opened the drawing-room door and came forward anxiously, whilst his assembled guests, among whom a sense that something of importance was passing had rapidly spread, now gathered curiously about the open doorway.
The Countess read on, unnoticing, with compressed lips and knitted brows—those brows that looked so black on the fair skin, under the powdered hair.
"My husband! ah, I knew it, my André ... the common fate of the loyal!" A sigh lifted the fair young bosom, but she showed no other sign of weakness.
Indeed those who watched this unexpected scene were struck by the contrast between the bearing of this young, almost girlish creature, who, holding the written sheets with firm hands to the light, read their terrible contents with dry eyes, and that of the man who had sunk, kneeling, at her feet, all undone, to have had the bringing of the news.
The silence was profound, save for the crackling of the pages as she turned them over, and an occasional long-drawn sob from the messenger.
When she came to the end the young widow—for such she was now—remained some moments absorbed in thought, absently refolding the letter into its original neatness. Then her eyes fell on René's prostrate figure and she stooped to lay a kind hand for an instant on his shoulder.
"Bear up, my good René," she said. At her voice and touch he dragged his limbs together and stood humbly before her.
"We must be brave," she went on; "your master's task is done—ours, yours and mine, is not."
He lifted his bloodshot eyes to her with the gaze of a faithful dog in distress, scraped an uncouth bow and abruptly turned away, brushing the tears from his cheek with his sleeve, and hurrying, to relieve his choking grief in solitude. She stood a while, again absorbed in her own reflection, and of those who would have rushed to speak gentle words to her, and uphold her with tender hands, had she wept or swooned, there was none who dared approach this grief that gave no sign.