"Nay, fair lady," he said gallantly, "only an arrow shot into the air."He paused a moment, like a cat which sees a mouse running heedlessly by, ready to spring, yet waiting with that feline sense of enjoyment of mischief about to be done. Then he said quietly--"Your brother, St. Just, is in peril."
Not a muscle moved in the beautiful face before him. He could only see it in profile, for Marguerite seemed to be watching the stage intently, but Chauvelin was a keen observer; he noticed the sudden rigidity of the eyes, the hardening of the mouth, the sharp, almost paralysed tension of the beautiful, graceful figure.
"Lud, then," she said with affected merriment, "since `tis one of your imaginary plots, you'd best go back to your own seat and leave me enjoy the music."And with her hand she began to beat time nervously against the cushion of the box. Selina Storace was singing the "Che faro" to an audience that hung spellbound upon the prima donna's lips. Chauvelin did not move from his seat; he quietly watched that tiny nervous hand, the only indication that his shaft had indeed struck home.
"Well?" she said suddenly and irrelevantly, and with the same feigned unconcern.