He knew better
than to try to help her to rise--to touch her in any way. Seeing
to what the past hours had reduced her, he knew better. There was
mad fear in her eyes when she lifted her head and threw out her
hand again.
"No! No!" she cried out. "No, I will drink nothing!" He understood
at once and threw the wine into the grate.
"I see," he said. "You might think it might be drugged. You are
right. It might be. I ought to have thought of that." He returned
the flask to his pocket. "Listen again. You must. The time will
soon be up and we must not let those fellows break in and make
a row that will collect a crowd We must go at once. Mademoiselle
Valle is waiting for you in my carriage outside. You will not be
afraid to drink wine she gives you."
"Mademoiselle!" she stammered.
"Yes. In my carriage, which is not fifty yards from the house. Can
you stand on your feet?" She got up and stood but she was still
shuddering all over.
"Can you walk downstairs? If you cannot, will you let me carry
you? I am strong enough-in spite of my years."
"I can walk," she whispered.
"Will you take my arm?"
She looked at him for a moment with awful, broken-spirited eyes.
"Yes. I will take your arm."
He offered it to her with rigid punctiliousness of manner. He
did not even look at her. He led her out of the room and down the
three flights of stairs.
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