“What is it?” she cried in a panic. “What is it?”
“If Mademoiselle will return to her room?” one of the men said courteously.
“But—what is it?” She was frightened.
“If Mademoiselle—”
Then she turned without more and went back into the room, and the three followed, and her woman and Madame Carlat. She stood resting one hand on the table while Javette with shaking fingers lighted the candles. Then—
“Now, Monsieur,” she said in a hard voice, “if you will tell me your business?”
“You do not know me?” The stranger’s eyes dwelt kindly and pitifully on her.
She looked at him steadily, crushing down the fears which knocked at her heart.
“No,” she said. “And yet I think I have seen you.”
“You saw me a week last Sunday,” the stranger answered sorrowfully. “My name is La Tribe. I preached that day, Mademoiselle, before the King of Navarre. I believe that you were there.”