In a voice thick with the torturing rage of impotence he gave the order upon which the grim Parisian insisted.

There followed a silence broken by the fall of Rabecque's heavily shod feet upon the stones of the yard, as he crossed it to do his master's bidding.

The door creaked on its hinges; the key grated screaming in its lock, and Rabecque returned to Garnache's side even as Garnache tapped Marius on the shoulder.
"This way, Monsieur de Condillac, if you please," said he, and as Marius turned at last to face him, he stood aside and waved his left hand towards the door through which they had lately emerged.

A moment stood the youth facing his stern conqueror; his hands were clenched until the knuckles showed white; his face was a dull crimson.

Vainly he sought for words in which to vent some of the malicious chagrin that filled his soul almost to bursting-point.