Carlat threw himself before his mistress, the
Countess in her turn sheltered a young girl, who stood beside her and
from whose face the last trace of colour had fled. Madame Carlat and a
waiting-woman ran shrieking to the window; another instant and the alarm
would have gone abroad.
Tignonville's voice stopped it. "Don't you know me?" he cried, "Madame!
you at least! Carlat! Are you all mad?"
The words stayed them where they stood in an astonishment scarce less
than their alarm. The Countess tried twice to speak; the third time--
"Have you escaped?" she muttered.
Tignonville nodded, his eyes bright with triumph. "So far," he said.
"But they may be on our heels at any moment! Where can we hide?"
The Countess, her hand pressed to her side, looked at Javette.
"The door, girl!" she whispered. "Lock it!"
"Ay, lock it! And they can go by the back-stairs," Madame Carlat
answered, awaking suddenly to the situation. "Through my closet! Once
in the yard they may pass out through the stables."
"Which way?" Tignonville asked impatiently. "Don't stand looking at me,
but--"
"Through this door!" Madame Carlat answered, hurrying to it.
He was following when the Countess stepped forward and interposed between
him and the door.
"Stay!" she cried; and there was not one who did not notice a new
decision in her voice, a new dignity in her bearing.
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