The timepiece on the overmantel chimed melodiously the hour of ten, and then, startling in the suddenness with which it broke the immediate silence, another sound vibrated through the house, and brought madame to her feet, in a breathless mingling of hope and dread.  Some one was knocking sharply on the door below.  Followed moments of agonized suspense, culminating in the abrupt invasion of the room by the footman Jacques.  He looked round, not seeing his mistress at first.

“Madame!  Madame!” he panted, out of breath.

“What is it, Jacques!” Her voice was steady now that the need for self-control seemed thrust upon her.  She advanced from the shadows into that island of light about the table.  “There is a man below.  He is asking... he is demanding to see you at once.”

“A man?” she questioned.

“He... he seems to be an official; at least he wears the sash of office.  And he refuses to give any name; he says that his name would convey nothing to you.  He insists that he must see you in person and at once.”

“An official?” said madame.

“An official,” Jacques repeated.  “I would not have admitted him, but that he demanded it in the name of the Nation.  Madame, it is for you to say what shall be done.  Robert is with me.  If you wish it... whatever it may be... "

“My good Jacques, no, no.”  She was perfectly composed.  “If this man intended evil, surely he would not come alone.  Conduct him to me, and then beg Mlle. de Kercadiou to join me if she is awake.”

Jacques departed, himself partly reassured.  Madame seated herself in the armchair by the table well within the light.  She smoothed her dress with a mechanical hand.  If, as it would seem, her hopes had been futile, so had her momentary fears.  A man on any but an errand of peace would have brought some following with him, as she had said.

The door opened again, and Jacques reappeared; after him, stepping briskly past him, came a slight man in a wide-brimmed hat, adorned by a tricolour cockade.  About the waist of an olive-green riding-coat he wore a broad tricolour sash; a sword hung at his side.

He swept off his hat, and the candlelight glinted on the steel buckle in front of it.  Madame found herself silently regarded by a pair of large, dark eyes set in a lean, brown face, eyes that were most singularly intent and searching.

She leaned forward, incredulity swept across her countenance.  Then her eyes kindled, and the colour came creeping back into her pale cheeks.  She rose suddenly.  She was trembling.

“Andre-Louis!” she exclaimed.

CHAPTER XIV

THE BARRIER