Chauvelin alone seemed quite indifferent and stood back a little when Sir Percy advanced, in order to allow him to pass.
But Candeille recovered quickly enough from her surprise: without heeding Blakeney's proffered arm, she turned with all the airs of an insulted tragedy queen towards Marguerite.
"So 'tis I," she said with affected calm, "who am to bear every insult in a house in which I was bidden as a guest.

I am turned out like some intrusive and importunate beggar, and I, the stranger in this land, am destined to find that amidst all these brilliant English gentlemen there is not one man of honour.
"M.

Chauvelin," she added loudly, "our beautiful country has, meseems, deputed you to guard the honour as well as the worldly goods of your unprotected compatriots.

I call upon you, in the name of France, to avenge the insults offered to me to-night." She looked round defiantly from one to the other of the several faces which were now turned towards her, but no one, for the moment, spoke or stirred.

Juliette, silent and ashamed, had taken Marguerite's hand in hers, and was clinging to it as if wishing to draw strength of character and firmness of purpose through the pores of the other woman's delicate skin.
Sir Percy with backbone still bent in a sweeping curve had not relaxed his attitude of uttermost deference.