It seemed as though hours were passing as she stood there. It seemed to grow unbearably hot in that small, dark place; it seemed even that it was hard to breathe. Perhaps it was her fear that was suffocating her! She unfastened the black velvet cloak and let it hang more loosely, wide apart, upon her shoulders--and held her hand agitatedly upon her bare throat, that was now exposed by the low-necked blouse. Would they never go! And what were they doing there? It was very strange! They seemed to keep on tramping and even running around, and there was no sound of voices now--only a most peculiar sound that made her think of Papa Fregeau when he stood in the kitchen of the Bas Rhône and sharpened his carving knife on his long bone-handled steel.
Then all grew suddenly quiet--and the quiet was as suddenly broken by a voice, loud enough and distinct enough for her to hear.
"It is nothing! But a touch, monsieur--continue!"
Marie-Louise's eyes widened, and slowly her form grew rigid and tense, and her hand at her throat slipped away and caught at the neck of her blouse, and in a spasmodic clutch tore it wider apart. That voice--she did not know whose it was--but there was no mistaking the cold, sullen fury in it. And the tramping of feet had begun again--and that sound again, the rasp of steel, was hideous now, bringing her a sickening dread.
It was as though for a moment she were too stunned to move. They were fighting out there in Jean's _atelier_--with--with swords. And perhaps--perhaps it was Jean who was fighting. And if--if he should be--no, no!--she dare not even let the thought take form in her mind. But she must see--somehow, she must see! How dark it was, and how those sounds brought terror now! She could not stand there and--and think; she must see that at least it was not Jean, or else--or else she would scream out in her agony of suspense.
She groped out with her hand for the door. She could open it very silently, just a little way--they would be too occupied to notice it. Her hand trembled as it fell upon the knob. She pushed the door open a crack, an inch. There seemed to burst in upon her, in upon the contrasting utter darkness, a blinding light that dazzled her so that she could see nothing; and to burst in upon her a horrible riot of noise--heavy, panting gasps for breath, the quick shuffle of feet upon the floor, the grating, the ring, the metallic grinding of rapier blades.