Suddenly the duke's window grew bright. The shutters were not closed,
and the interior became partially visible to me as I cautiously raised
myself till I stood on tiptoe. Thus placed, my range of sight embraced a
yard or more inside the window, while the radius of light did not
reach me. The window was flung open and someone looked out. I marked
Antoinette de Mauban's graceful figure, and, though her face was in
shadow, the fine outline of her head was revealed against the light
behind. I longed to cry softly, "Remember!" but I dared not--and
happily, for a moment later a man came up and stood by her. He tried to
put his arm round her waist, but with a swift motion she sprang away and
leant against the shutter, her profile towards me. I made out who the
newcomer was: it was young Rupert. A low laugh from him made me sure, as
he leant forward, stretching out his hand towards her.
"Gently, gently!" I murmured. "You're too soon, my boy!"
His head was close to hers. I suppose he whispered to her, for I saw her
point to the moat, and I heard her say, in slow and distinct tones:
"I had rather throw myself out of this window!"
He came close up to the window and looked out.
"It looks cold," said he. "Come, Antoinette, are you serious?"
She made no answer so far as I heard; and he smiting his hand petulantly
on the window-sill, went on, in the voice of some spoilt child:
"Hang Black Michael! Isn't the princess enough for him? Is he to have
everything? What the devil do you see in Black Michael?"
"If I told him what you say--" she began.
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