Edmé de Rochefort stood near the window. The terrifying sounds which echoed through the lower part of the building would have unnerved her, had not anger supplied a sustaining force, and brought a deep flush to supplant the pallor on her cheeks. The spirit of her race was roused within her. Had she been a man she would have charged alone, sword in hand, against the mob; but being only a woman she stood waiting the issue. Trembling slightly, she stood with her small hands clenched and white teeth firmly set. At her elbow was Agatha, her maid. She was paler than her mistress, but it was not for herself she feared. Her devotion made her fear more for Edmé's safety than for her own.
As the shouts redoubled Edmé saw the two old men turn, pallid and trembling, towards her.
"They seek me only," she said resolutely. "Why should I endanger your lives by remaining here? I will go to meet them!"
"You shall not go!" cried Agatha, placing herself in front of her mistress.
"It can only be a question of a few minutes at the longest. Let me go, Agatha."
"Listen," cried the priest, "they are in the house! They are coming up the stairway now!"
"No," cried old Matthieu, "I can still hear them down there in the courtyard."
Nevertheless a quick footstep was heard approaching from the corridor. The portières at the further end of the room were thrown apart, and a man, wearing the uniform of the Republican army, entered the salon.
"Robert!" came in a glad cry from old Tournay's lips.
Tournay did not wait to exchange words with his father, but approached Edmé.