well as we could in the dark, and returning all
but the expected one for me; but I begged her
to return to my room, where I kept tinder and
flint, and to strike a fresh light; and so she
went, and I remained alone in the room, of
which I could only just distinguish the size,
and the principal articles of furniture: a large
table, with a deep overhanging cloth, in the
middle, escritoires and other heavy articles
against the walls; all this I could see as I
stood there, my hand on the table close by the
letters, my face towards the window, which,
both from the darkness of the wood growing
high up the mountain-side and the faint light
of the declining moon, seemed only like an
oblong of paler purpler black than the shadowy
room. How much I remembered from my one
instantaneous glance before the candle went
out, how much I saw as my eyes became
accustomed to the darkness, I do not know, but
even now, in my dreams, comes up that room of
horror, distinct in its profound shadow. Amante
could hardly have been gone a minute before I
felt an additional gloom before the window, and
heard soft movements outside— soft, but resolute,
and continued until the end was
accomplished, and the window raised.

In mortal terror of people forcing an entrance
at such an hour, and in such a manner as to
leave no doubt of their purpose, I would have
turned to fly when first I heard the noise, only
that I feared by any quick motion to catch
their attention, as I also ran the danger of
doing by opening the door, which was all but
closed, and to whose handlings I was unaccustomed.
Again, quick as lightning, I bethought
me of the hiding-place between the locked door
to my husband's dressing-room and the portiere
which covered it; but I gave that up, I felt as
if I could not reach it without screaming or
fainting. So I sank down softly, and crept
under the table, hidden, as I hoped, by the
great deep table-cover, with its heavy fringe. I
had not recovered my swooning senses fully,
and was trying to reassure myself as to my
being in a place of comparative safety, for, above
all things, I dreaded the betrayal of fainting,
and struggled hard for such courage as I might
attain by deadening myself to the danger I
was in by inflicting intense pain on myself. You
have often asked me the reason of that mark on
my hand; it was where, in my agony, I bit out
a piece of flesh with my relentless teeth, thankful
for the pain, which helped to numb my
terror. I say, I was but just concealed when I
heard the window lifted, and one after another
stepped over the sill, and stood by me so close
that I could have touched their feet. Then
they laughed and whispered; my brain swam
so that I could not tell the meaning of their
words, but I heard my husband's laughter
among the rest— low, hissing, and scornful— as
he kicked something heavy that they had
dragged in over the floor, and which lay near
me; so near, that my husband's kick, in touching
it, touched me too. I don't know why—
I can't tell how— but some feeling, and not
curiosity, prompted me to put out my hand,
ever so softly, ever so little, and feel in the
darkness for what lay spurned beside me. I
stole my groping palm upon the clenched and
chilly hand of a corpse!

Strange to say, this roused me to instant
vividness of thought. Till this moment I had
almost forgotten Amante; now I planned with
feverish rapidity how I could give her a warning
not to return; or rather, I should say, I tried to
plan, for all my projects were utterly futile, as I
might have seen from the first. I could only
hope she would hear the voices of those who
were now busy in trying to kindle a light, swearing
awful oaths at the mislaid articles which
would have enabled them to strike fire. I heard
her step outside coming nearer and nearer; I
saw from my hiding-place the line of light
beneath the door more and more distinctly; close
to it her footstep paused; the men inside—
at the time I thought they had been only two,
but I found out afterwards there were three
— paused in their endeavours, and were quite
still, as breathless as myself, I suppose. Then
she slowly pushed the door open with gentle
motion, to save her flickering candle from being
again extinguished. For a moment all was still.
Then I heard my husband say, as he advanced
towards her (he wore riding-boots,the shape of which
I knew well, as I could see them in the light),

"Amante, may I ask what brings you here
into my private room?"

He stood between her and the dead body of a
man, from which ghastly heap I shrank away as
it almost touched me, so close were we all
together. I could not tell whether she saw it or
not; I could give her no warning, nor make any
dumb utterance of signs to bid her what to say
— if, indeed, I knew myself what would be best
for her to say.

Her voice was quite changed when she spoke;
quite hoarse, and very low; yet it was steady
enough as she said, what was the truth, that she
had come to look for a letter which she believed
had arrived for me from. Germany. Good, brave
Amante! Not a word about me. M. de la
Tourelle answered with a grim blasphemy and a
fearful threat. He would have no one prying
into his premises; madame should have her
letters, if there were any, when he chose to give
them to her, if, indeed, he thought it well to
give them to her at all. As for Amante, this
was her first warning, but it was also her last;
and, taking the candle out of her hand, he
turned her out of the room, his companions
discreetly making a screen, so as to throw the
corpse into deep shadow. I heard the key turn
in the door after her— if I had ever had any
thought of escape it was gone now. I only
hoped that whatever was to befal me might
soon be over, for the tension of nerve was growing
more than I could bear. The instant she
could be supposed to be out of hearing, two
voices began speaking in the most angry terms
to my husband, upbraiding him for not having
detained her, gagged her— nay, one was for killing
her, saying he had seen her eye fall on the