At Close Quarters

"No," she cried. "Not there!" while Tignonville, who knew that the step
was useless, since Count Hannibal must have learned that a monk had
entered, held his ground.

"You could not deny yourself?" he muttered hurriedly.

"And a priest with me?" she answered; and she shook her head.

There was no time for more, and even as Mademoiselle spoke Count
Hannibal's knuckles tapped the door. She cast a last look at her lover.
He had turned his back on the window; the light no longer fell on his
face. It was possible that he might pass unrecognized, if Tavannes' stay
was brief; at any rate, the risk must be run. In a half stifled voice
she bade her woman, Javette, open the door. Count Hannibal bowed low as
he entered; and he deceived the others. But he did not deceive her. He
had not crossed the threshold before she repented that she had not acted
on Tignonville's suggestion, and denied herself. For what could escape
those hard keen eyes, which swept the room, saw all, and seemed to see
nothing--those eyes in which there dwelt even now a glint of cruel
humour? He might deceive others, but she who panted within his grasp, as
the wild bird palpitates in the hand of the fowler, was not deceived! He
saw, he knew! although, as he bowed, and smiling, stood upright, he
looked only at her.

"I expected to be with you before this," he said courteously, "but I have
been detained. First, Mademoiselle, by some of your friends, who were
reluctant to part with me; then by some of your enemies, who, finding me
in no handsome case, took me for a Huguenot escaped from the river, and
drove me to shifts to get clear of them. However, now I am come, I have
news."