“Once there I was changed. I did not think of the applause that greeted me, the murmurs of surprise, approbation, questioning, rising round me. Suddenly, as I paused and faced them all, nervousness passed out of me, and I saw nothing—nothing but a sort of far-off picture. My mind was caught away into that world which I had created for myself when I danced, and these rude gentlemen were but visions. All sense of indignity passed from me. I was only a woman fighting for a life and for her own and her another’s happiness.
“As I danced I did not know how time passed—only that I must keep those men where they were till General Montcalm came. After a while, when the first dazed feeling had passed, I could see their faces plainly through my mask, and I knew that I could hold them; for they ceased to lift their glasses, and stood watching me, sometimes so silent that I could hear their breathing only, sometimes making a great applause, which passed into silence again quickly. Once, as I wheeled, I caught the eyes of Jamond watching me closely. The Intendant never stirred from his seat, and scarcely moved, but kept his eyes fixed on me. Nor did he applaud. There was something painful in his immovability.
“I saw it all as in a dream, yet I did see it, and I was resolute to triumph over the wicked designs of base and abandoned men. I feared that my knowledge and power to hold them might stop before help came. Once, in a slight pause, when a great noise of their hands and a rattling of scabbards on the table gave me a short respite, some one—Captain Lancy, I think—snatched up a glass, and called on all to drink my health.
“‘Jamond! Jamond!’ was the cry, and they drank; the Intendant himself standing up, and touching the glass to his lips, then sitting down again, silent and immovable as before. One gentleman, a nephew of the Chevalier de la Darante, came swaying towards me with a glass of wine, begging me in a flippant courtesy to drink; but I waved him back, and the Intendant said most curtly, ‘Monsieur de la Darante will remember my injunction.’
“Again I danced, and I can not tell you with what anxiety and desperation—for there must be an end to it before long, and your peril, Robert, come again, unless these rough fellows changed their minds. Moment after moment went, and though I had danced beyond reasonable limits, I still seemed to get new strength, as I have heard men say, in fighting, they ‘come to their second wind.’ At last, at the end of the most famous step that Jamond had taught me, I stood still for a moment to renewed applause; and I must have wound these men up to excitement beyond all sense, for they would not be dissuaded, but swarmed towards the dais where I was, and some called for me to remove my mask.
“Then the Intendant came down among them, bidding them stand back, and himself stepped towards me. I felt affrighted, for I liked not the look in his eyes, and so, without a word, I stepped down from the dais—I did not dare to speak, lest they should recognize my voice—and made for the door with as much dignity as I might. But the Intendant came to me with a mannered courtesy, and said in my ear, ‘Madame, you have won all our hearts; I would you might accept some hospitality—a glass of wine, a wing of partridge, in a room where none shall disturb you?’ I shuddered, and passed on. ‘Nay, nay, madame, not even myself with you, unless you would have it otherwise,’ he added.
“Still I did not speak, but put out my hand in protest, and moved on towards the screen, we two alone, for the others had fallen back with whisperings and side-speeches. Oh, how I longed to take the mask from my face and spurn them! The hand that I put out in protest the Intendant caught within his own, and would have held it, but that I drew it back with indignation, and kept on towards the screen. Then I realized that a new-corner had seen the matter, and I stopped short, dumfounded—for it was Monsieur Doltaire! He was standing beside the screen, just within the room, and he sent at the Intendant and myself a keen, piercing glance.
“Now he came forward quickly, for the Intendant also half stopped at sight of him, and a malignant look shot from his eyes; hatred showed in the profane word that was chopped off at his teeth. When Monsieur Doltaire reached us, he said, his eyes resting on me with intense scrutiny, ‘His Excellency will present me to his distinguished entertainer?’ He seemed to read behind my mask. I knew he had discovered me, and my heart stood still. But I raised my eyes and met his gaze steadily. The worst had come. Well, I would face it now. I could endure defeat with courage. He paused an instant, a strange look passed over his face, his eyes got hard and very brilliant, and he continued (oh, what suspense that was!): ‘Ah yes, I see—Jamond, the perfect and wonderful Jamond, who set us all a-kneeling at Versailles. If Madame will permit me?’ He made to take my hand. Here the Intendant interposed, putting out his hand also. ‘I have promised to protect Madame from individual courtesy while here,’ he said. Monsieur Doltaire looked at him keenly. ‘Then your Excellency must build stone walls about yourself,’ he rejoined, with cold emphasis. ‘Sometimes great men are foolish. To-night your Excellency would have let’—here he raised his voice so that all could hear—‘your Excellency would have let a dozen cowardly gentlemen drag a dying prisoner from his prison, forcing back his Majesty’s officers at the dungeon doors, and, after baiting, have matched him against a common criminal. That was unseemly in a great man and a King’s chief officer, the trick of a low law-breaker. Your Excellency promised a lady to protect her from individual courtesy, if she gave pleasure—a pleasure beyond price—to you and your guests, and you would have broken your word without remorse. General Montcalm has sent a company of men to set your Excellency right in one direction, and I am come to set you right in the other.’
“The Intendant was white with rage. He muttered something between his teeth, then said aloud, ‘Presently we will talk more of this, monsieur. You measure strength with Francois Bigot: we will see which proves the stronger in the end.’ ‘In the end the unjust steward kneels for mercy to his master,’ was Monsieur Doltaire’s quiet answer; and then he made a courteous gesture towards the door, and I went to it with him slowly, wondering what the end would be. Once at the other side of the screen, he peered into Jamond’s face for an instant, then he gave a low whistle. ‘You have an apt pupil, Jamond, one who might be your rival one day,’ said he. Still there was a puzzled look on his face, which did not leave it till he saw Jamond walking. ‘Ah yes,’ he added, ‘I see now. You are lame. This was a desperate yet successful expedient.’
“He did not speak to me, but led the way to where, at the great door, was the Intendant’s valet standing with my cloak. Taking it from him, he put it round my shoulders. ‘The sleigh by which I came is at the door,’ he said, ‘and I will take you home.’ I knew not what to do, for I feared some desperate act on his part to possess me. I determined that I would not leave Jamond, in any case, and I felt for a weapon which I had hidden in my dress. We had not, however, gone a half dozen paces in the entrance hall when there were quick steps behind, and four soldiers came towards us, with an officer at their head—an officer whom I had seen in the chamber, but did not recognize.