Farther up the Chamber, at the end of the alcove, Marshal Tavannes--our Hannibal's brother--occupied a low stool, which was set opposite the open door of the closet.

Through this doorway a slender foot, silk-clad, shot now and again into sight; it came, it vanished, it came again, the gallant Marshal striving at each appearance to rob it of its slipper, a dainty jewelled thing of crimson velvet.

He failed thrice, a peal of laughter greeting each failure.

At the fourth essay, he upset his stool and fell to the floor, but held the slipper.

And not the slipper only, but the foot.