And even now Count Hannibal's step rang on the stair! his hand was almost on the latch.

The woman wrung her hands; then, a thought striking her, she darted to a corner where Mademoiselle's robes hung on pegs against the wall.
"Here!" she cried, raising them.

"Behind these! He may not be seen here! Quick, Monsieur, quick! Hide yourself!" It was a forlorn hope--the suggestion of one who had not thought out the position; and, whatever its promise, Mademoiselle's pride revolted against it.
"No," she cried.

"Not there!" while Tignonville, who knew that the step was useless, since Count Hannibal must have learned that a monk had entered, held his ground.
"You could not deny yourself ?" he muttered hurriedly.
"And a priest with me ?" she answered; and she shook her head.
There was no time for more, and even as Mademoiselle spoke Count Hannibal's knuckles tapped the door.

She cast a last look at her lover.
He had turned his back on the window; the light no longer fell on his face.