Whereupon he looked at me solicitously, as if he thought I was about to be taken with some sickness.
I bit my tongue for having said it.
Before many minutes, however, footsteps passed near the hatchway, and again the trembling took me. Then I caught a ripple of clear laughter—life has never afforded to my ears other melody so sweet as that laughter was, and is, and always will be. I sprang straight upon my feet, but instantly sat down again. Marc himself had heard it and was puzzled, for who that had ever heard the laughter of Yvonne de Lamourie could forget it?
“It—is she!” I said to him, in a thick voice.
Chapter XXXV
The Court in the Cabin
It is marvel to us now how the next hours of suspense did pass. Yet pass they did, and in a joy that was fairly certitude; for I could not doubt the witness of my inmost soul. At length I saw that Marc believed also. His grave, dark face grew luminous as he said, after long balancing of the matter:
“Her eyes, my Paul, have opened at the last instant, and she has chosen exile with thee! Even so would Prudence have done. And seeing how thou, my comrade, lovest her, I am ready to believe she may be almost such another as Prudence. Wherefore she is here, quod erat demonstrandum!”
Even as he spoke, a soldier came down the ladder and stood before us.
“I am bidden to say,” said he, “that Mademoiselle de Lamourie desires to see Captain de Mer and Captain Grande on deck; and I am ordered by Lieutenant Shafto to fetch you at once.”
With such haste as was possible—it is not easy when handcuffed to climb ladders—we made our way on deck, and straight came Yvonne running to meet us, both small hands outstretched. Her eyes sank into mine for just one heart-beat—and that look said, “I love you.” Then her guarded face grew maidenly impartial.