CHAPTER XXIV
BURNING OF THE CHÂTEAU
Mlle Marthe lay in the dusk frowning and knitting her brows until they made a straight dark line over her restless eyes. A sense of angry impotence possessed her and found expression in a continual sharp movement of head and hand; the stabbing physical pain evoked was sheer relief to the strained mind. Two days had now passed since the first expedition to the château, and every hour of them had seemed more heavily weighted with impending danger. Nothing would persuade Mme de Montenay to move, or Ange to leave her to her fate. Louise was tearful, and useless; Marguerite, a lonely child, terrified of the great shadowed rooms, and clinging eagerly to her friend;—a complication, in fact, which roused Mlle Marthe's anger more than all the rest, since even her resolution recoiled from the abandonment of a young girl, who had no share in Mme de Montenay's obstinacy. Marthe fretted, turned a little, groaned, and bit her lip.
As the door opened she looked up sharply, but it was only Jeanne, who came to ask her if she should light the lamp, and got a snappish "No!" for answer.
"It is dark, Ma'mselle," she said.
"I will wait till they come in."
"Eh—it 's queer weather, and a queer time of day to be out," muttered Jeanne sulkily.
"Madame is young; she needs exercise," said Marthe, prompted by something in the woman's tone.
"Ah, yes, exercise," said Jeanne in a queer voice, and she went out, shutting the door sharply. Mlle Marthe's thoughts kept tone with the darkening sky. Her eyes watched the door with an anxious stare. When at last Ange and Aline came in snow-sprinkled and warm, her temper was fretted to a sharp edge, and she spoke with quick impatience.
"Mon Dieu, how long you have been! If you must go, you must, but there is no occasion to stay and stay, until I am beside myself with wondering what has happened!"