[CHAPTER XI]
“In the Midst of Life”
The Alcalde had stopped on the step with an exclamation at something in the darkness outside, and he backed, bowing, into the room again to make way for some one. A lady, slim, gowned and veiled in black and followed by a negress, swept past him. The lady lifted her veil and stood before us.
“Antoinette!” exclaimed the Vicomtesse, going to her.
The girl did not answer at once. Her suffering seemed to have brought upon her a certain acceptance of misfortune as inevitable. Her face, framed in the black veil, was never more beautiful than on that night.
“What is the Alcalde doing here?” she said.
The officer himself answered the question.
“I am leaving, Mademoiselle,” said he. He reached out his hands toward her, appealingly. “Do you not remember me, Mademoiselle? You brought the good sister to see my wife.”
“I remember you,” said Antoinette.