Chapter XXVIII THE HISSING OF “ALCIDE” There was a strange and ominous murmur of voices, a shuffling of feet in the gallery, a silence, which was like the silence before a storm. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. . Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. ‘Come,’ she called. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. "Did you write it?" "No. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. She did not therefore reveal to him that he had guaged her with accuracy.
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