"
Obediently the soldiers buckled on their belts, one of them
viciously kicking the Jew to one side.
"Leave him there," said Chauvelin, "and lead the way now
quickly to the cart. I'll follow."
He walked up to where Marguerite lay, and looked down into her
face. She had evidently recovered consciousness, and was making
feeble efforts to raise herself. Her large, blue eyes were looking at
the moonlit scene round her with a scared and terrified look; they
rested with a mixture of horror and pity on the Jew, whose luckless
fate and wild howls had been the first signs that struck her, with her
returning senses; then she caught sight of Chauvelin, in his neat,
dark clothes, which seemed hardly crumpled after the stirring events
of the last few hours. He was smiling sarcastically, and his pale
eyes peered down at her with a look of intense malice.
With mock gallantry, he stooped and raised her icy-cold hand
to his lips, which sent a thrill of indescribable loathing through
Marguerite's weary frame.
"I much regret, fair lady," he said in his most suave tones,
"that circumstances, over which I have no control, compel me to leave
you here for the moment.
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