“He is in that room,” said the Vicomtesse, pointing at the bedroom door.

The Alcalde took a step forward.  She stopped him by a quick gesture.

“He is in that room with his mother,” she said, “and his mother has the yellow fever.  Come, we will go to him.”  And she put her hand upon the door.

“Yellow fever!” cried the Alcalde, and his voice was thick with terror.  There was a moment’s silence as he stood rooted to the floor.  I did not wonder then, but I have since thought it remarkable that the words spoken low by both of them should have been caught up on the banquette and passed into the street.  Impassive, I heard it echoed from a score of throats, I saw men and women stampeding like frightened sheep, I heard their footfalls and their cries as they ran.  A tawdry constable, who held with a trembling hand the bridle of the tired horse, alone remained.

“Yellow fever!” the Alcalde repeated

The Vicomtesse inclined her head.

He was silent again for a while, uncertain, and then, without comprehending, I saw the man’s eyes grow smaller and a smile play about his mouth.  He looked at the Vicomtesse with a new admiration to which she paid no heed.

“I am sorry, Madame la Vicomtesse,” he began, “but—­”

“But you do not believe that I speak the truth,” she replied quietly.

He winced.

“Will you follow me?” she said, turning again.

He had started, plainly in an agony of fear, when a sound came from beyond the wall that brought a cry to his lips.

Her manner changed to one of stinging scorn.

“You are a coward,” she said.  “I will bring the gentleman to you if he can be got to leave the bedside.”

“No,” said the Alcalde, “no.  I—­I will go to him, Madame la Vicomtesse.”

But she did not open the door.

“Listen,” she said in a tone of authority, “I myself have been to his Excellency to-day concerning this gentleman—­”

“You, Madame la Vicomtesse?”

“I will open the door,” she continued, impatient at the interruption, “and you will see him.  Then I shall write a letter which you will take to the Governor.  The gentleman will not try to escape, for his mother is dying.  Besides, he could not get out of the city.  You may leave your constable where he is, or the man may come in and stand at this door in sight of the gentleman while you are gone—­if he pleases.”

“And then?” said the Alcalde.

“It is my belief that his Excellency will allow the gentleman to remain here, and that you will be relieved from the necessity of running any further risk.”

As she spoke she opened the door, softly.  The room was still now, still as death, and the Alcalde went forward on tiptoe.  I saw him peering in, I saw him backing away again like a man in mortal fear.

“Yes, it is he—­it is the man,” he stammered.  He put his hand to his brow.