M. de Tavannes smiled. Mademoiselle averted her eyes, and shivered; as if the air, even of that close summer
night, entering by the door at her elbow, chilled her. And then came a welcome interruption.
Count Hannibal rose slowly. The King had called, and he had no choice but to obey and go. Yet he hung a last
moment over his companion, his hateful breath stirring her hair.
"Our pleasure is cut short too soon, Mademoiselle," he said, in the tone, and with the look, she loathed. "But
for a few hours only. We shall meet to-morrow. Or, it may be--earlier."...