But
within the coach sat another woman, dark of hair and exquisite of face, who
eyed my advent with a disdainful glance. Her proud countenance bore the
stamp of courage, and to her it was that I directed my appeal.
"Madame, permit me, I pray, to seek shelter in your carriage, and suffer me
to journey a little way with you. Quick, Madame! Your coachman is drawing
rein, and I shall of a certainty be murdered under your very nose unless
you bid him change his mind. To be murdered in itself is a trifling
matter, I avow, but it is not nice to behold, and I would not, for all the
world, offend your eyes with the spectacle of it."
I had judged her rightly, and my tone of flippant recklessness won me her
sympathy and aid. Quickly thrusting her head through the other window:
"Drive on, Louis," she commanded. "Faster!" Then turning to me, "You may
bring your legs into the coach if you choose, sir," she said.
"Your words, Madame, are the sweetest music I have heard for months," I
answered drily, as I obeyed her. Then leaning out of the carriage again I
waved my hat gallantly to the mob which--now realising the futility of
further pursuit--had suddenly come to a halt.
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