THE AMERICAN
He had listened eagerly—with an eagerness greater even than that with which he had bent his ear to poor Valentin's weak lips. Every now and then, as his companion looked up at him, she reminded him of some old black cat, mild and sleek, protracting the enjoyment of a dish of rich milk. Even her triumph was measured and decorous; even her justice forbore to rattle the scales. "Late one night," she soon continued, "I was sitting by the Marquis in his room, the great red room in the west tower. He had been complaining a little and I had given him a spoonful of the remedy that so seldom failed to ease him. My lady had been there in the early part of the evening; she sat for more than an hour by his bed. Then she went away and left me alone. After midnight she came back and Mr. Urbain was with her. They went to the bed and looked at the Marquis, and my lady took hold of his hand. Then she turned to me and said he was not so well; I remember how the Marquis, without a word, lay staring at her. I can see his white face at this moment in the great black square between the bed-curtains. I said I did n't think he was very bad, and she told me to go to bed—she would sit a while with him. When he saw me going he gave a sound like a scared child and called out to me not to leave him; but Mr. Urbain opened the door for me and pointed the way out. The present Marquis—perhaps you 've noticed, sir—has a very high way of giving orders, and I was there to take orders. I went to my room, but I was n't easy; I could n't tell you why. I did n't undress; I sat there waiting and listening. For what would you have said, sir?
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