"Hold there! Is Guyot below ?" "Here, Captain," came a voice.
Charlot retraced his steps, leaving the door wide, his eyes dwelling upon Suzanne until she shrank under its gaze, as she might have done from the touch of some unclean thing.

She drew near to her mother, in whom the brief paroxysm of rage was now succeeded by a no less violent paroxysm of weeping.

On the stairs sounded Guyot's ascending steps.
"Mother," whispered Suzanne, setting her arms about her in a vain attempt to comfort.

Then she heard Charlot's voice curtly bidding Guyot to reconduct the Marquise to her carriage.
Madame de Bellecour heard it also, and roused herself once more.
"I will not go," she stormed, anger flashing again from the tear-laden eyes.

"I will not leave my daughter." Charlot shrugged his shoulders callously.
"Take her away, Guyot," he said, shortly, and the sturdy soldier obeyed him with a roughness that took no account of either birth or sex.
When the Marquise's last scream had died away in the distance, Charlot turned once more to Suzanne, and it seemed that he sought to compose his features into an expression of gentleness beyond their rugged limitations.