"Why should you be irritated for nothing? You know it is bad for you."
She looked at him with an air of concern, and there was a gentleness in her eyes which few had ever seen in them.
"It does not matter," answered Monsieur Leroy, crossly.
He had risen, and he brought a very small and light mahogany table from a corner. It was one of those which used to be made during the second Empire in sets of six and of successive sizes, so that each fitted each under the next larger one. He moved awkwardly and yet without noise; there was something very womanish in his figure and gait.
He set the little table before the Princess, very close to her, lit a single candle, which he placed on the floor behind an arm-chair, and turned out the electric light. Then he sat down on the opposite side of the table and spread out his hands upon it, side by side, the right thumb resting on the left. The Princess did the same. They glanced at each other once or twice, hardly distinguishing each other's features in the gloom. Then they looked steadily down upon the table, and neither stirred for a long time.
"I am sure They will not come," said the Princess at last, in a very low voice.
"Hush!"
Silence again, for a quarter of an hour. Somewhere in the room a small clock, or a watch, ticked quickly, with a little rhythmical, insisting accent on the fourth beat.
"It moved, then!" whispered the Princess, excitedly.
"Yes. Hush!"