The other moved her head appreciatively.  The purring of the cat had a loud complacency in the empty hall.  No sound of voices came from upstairs.  Miss Haldin broke the silence.

“What is it precisely that you heard people say about my brother?  You said that they were surprised.  Yes, I supposed they were.  Did it not seem strange to them that my brother should have failed to save himself after the most difficult part—­that is, getting away from the spot—­was over?  Conspirators should understand these things well.  There are reasons why I am very anxious to know how it is he failed to escape.”

The dame de compagnie had advanced to the open hall-door.  She glanced rapidly over her shoulder at Miss Haldin, who remained within the hall.

“Failed to escape,” she repeated absently.  “Didn’t he make the sacrifice of his life?  Wasn’t he just simply inspired?  Wasn’t it an act of abnegation?  Aren’t you certain?”

“What I am certain of,” said Miss Haldin, “is that it was not an act of despair.  Have you not heard some opinion expressed here upon his miserable capture?”

The dame de compagnie mused for a while in the doorway.

“Did I hear?  Of course, everything is discussed here.  Has not all the world been speaking about your brother?  For my part, the mere mention of his achievement plunges me into an envious ecstasy.  Why should a man certain of immortality think of his life at all?”

She kept her back turned to Miss Haldin.  Upstairs from behind a great dingy white and gold door, visible behind the balustrade of the first floor landing, a deep voice began to drone formally, as if reading over notes or something of the sort.  It paused frequently, and then ceased altogether.

“I don’t think I can stay any longer now,” said Miss Haldin.  “I may return another day.”

She waited for the dame de compagnie to make room for her exit; but the woman appeared lost in the contemplation of sunshine and shadows, sharing between themselves the stillness of the deserted grounds.  She concealed the view of the drive from Miss Haldin.  Suddenly she said—­

“It will not be necessary; here is Peter Ivanovitch himself coming up.  But he is not alone.  He is seldom alone now.”

Hearing that Peter Ivanovitch was approaching, Miss Haldin was not so pleased as she might have been expected to be.  Somehow she had lost the desire to see either the heroic captive or Madame de S—­, and the reason of that shrinking which came upon her at the very last minute is accounted for by the feeling that those two people had not been treating the woman with the cat kindly.

“Would you please let me pass?” said Miss Haldin at last, touching lightly the shoulder of the dame de compagnie.

But the other, pressing the cat to her breast, did not budge.

“I know who is with him,” she said, without even looking back.