I saw a jewel gleam in
her hair, and others on her hands. When she turned her face
towards us--a wild, beautiful face, perplexed and tear-stained--I
knew her instantly for a gentlewoman, and when she walked hastily
to the door, and laid her hand upon it, and seemed to listen--
when she shook the latch and dropped her hands in despair and
went back to the hearth, I made another discovery I knew at once,
seeing her there, that we were likely but to change one prison
for another. Was every house in Paris then a dungeon? And did
each roof cover its tragedy?
"Madame!" I said, speaking softly, to attract her attention.
"Madame!"
She started violently, not knowing whence the sound came, and
looked round, at the door first. Then she moved towards the
window, and with an affrighted gesture drew the curtain rapidly
aside.
Our eyes met. What if she screamed and aroused the house? What,
indeed? "Madame," I said again, speaking hurriedly, and striving
to reassure her by the softness of my voice, "we implore your
help! Unless you assist us we are lost.
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