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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Under the Red Robe"

She must trust all in all. A little
recovered from her fright, she stood looking at me in great
wonder; and at last she had a thought--
'You are not well?' she said suddenly. 'It is your old wound,
Monsieur. Now I have it?'
'Yes, Mademoiselle,' I muttered faintly, 'it is.'
'I will call Clon!' she cried impetuously. And then, with a
sob: 'Ah! poor Clon! He is gone. But there is still Louis. I
will call him and he will get you something.'
She was gone from the room before I could stop her, and I stood
leaning against the table possessor at last of the secret which I
had come so far to win; able in a moment to open the door and go
out into the night, and make use of it--and yet the most unhappy
of men. The sweat stood on my brow; my eyes wandered round the
room; I turned towards the door, with some mad thought of flight
--of flight from her, from the house, from everything; and I had
actually taken a step towards this, when on the door, the outer
door, there came a sudden hurried knocking which jarred every
nerve in my body. I started, and stopped. I stood a moment in
the middle of the floor gazing at the door, as at a ghost.


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