That done, silent as she, with his eyes set
hard, he would have gone by her. The sight of her _there_, guarding the
door of him who had stolen her from him, exasperated his worst passions.
But she moved to hinder him, and barred the way. With her hand raised
she pointed to the trapdoor.
"Go!" she whispered, her tone stern and low, "you have what you want!
Go!"
"No!" And he tried to pass her.
"Go!" she repeated in the same tone. "You have what you need." And
still she held her hand extended; still without faltering she faced the
five men, while the thunder, growing more distant, rolled sullenly
eastward, and the midnight rain, pouring from every spout and dripping
eave about the house, wrapped the passage in its sibilant hush. Gradually
her eyes dominated his, gradually her nobler nature and nobler aim
subdued his weaker parts. For she understood now; and he saw that she
did, and had he been alone he would have slunk away, and said no word in
his defence.
But one of the men, savage and out of patience, thrust himself between
them.
"Where is he?" he muttered. "What is the use of this? Where is he?" And
his bloodshot eyes--it was Tuez-les-Moines--questioned the doors, while
his hand, trembling and shaking on the haft of his knife, bespoke his
eagerness.
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