His body was now hidden from her sight, but his head appeared surmounting the pillar of the pump, his chin seeming to rest upon its summit, and his face was towards her.

At his side stood a powerful knave armed with a stout, leather-thonged whip.
"How many strokes, Monseigneur ?" she heard the man inquire.
"How many ?" echoed the Marquise.

"Do I know how many it will take to make an end of him?
Beat him to death, man.

Allons! Set about it." She saw the man uncoil his lash and step forward.

In that instant Caron's eyes were raised, and they met hers across the intervening space.