“I have not one with me,” she muttered, her eyes on the water.

“And I but an old one.  But at Angers—­”

The Countess heard no more; on that word she caught La Tribe’s eye.  He was beckoning to her behind Carlat’s back, pointing imperiously to the water, making signs to her to drop the packet over the side.  When she did not obey—­she felt sick and faint—­she saw through a mist his brow grow dark.  He menaced her secretly.  And still the packet scorched her; and twice her hand went to it, and dropped again empty.

On a sudden Madame St. Lo cried out.  The bank on one side of the stream was beginning to rise more boldly above the water, and at the head of the steep thus formed she had espied a late rosebush in bloom; nothing would now serve but she must land at once and plunder it.  The boat was put in therefore, she jumped ashore, and began to scale the bank.

“Go with Madame!” La Tribe cried, roughly nudging Carlat in the back.  “Do you not see that she cannot climb the bank?  Up, man, up!”

The Countess opened her mouth to cry “No!” but the word died half-born on her lips; and when the steward looked at her, uncertain what she had said, she nodded.

“Yes, go!” she muttered.  She was pale.

“Yes, man, go!” cried the minister, his eyes burning.  And he almost pushed the other out of the boat.

The next second the craft floated from the bank, and began to drift downwards.  La Tribe waited until a tree interposed and hid them from the two whom they had left; then he leaned forward.

“Now, Madame!” he cried imperiously.  “In God’s name, now!”

“Oh!” she cried.  “Wait!  Wait!  I want to think.”

“To think?”

“He trusted me!” she wailed.  “He trusted me!  How can I do it?” Nevertheless, and even while she spoke, she drew forth the packet.

“Heaven has given you the opportunity!”

“If I could have stolen it!” she answered.

“Fool!” he returned, rocking himself to and fro, and fairly beside himself with impatience.  “Why steal it?  It is in your hands!  You have it!  It is Heaven’s own opportunity, it is God’s opportunity given to you!”

For he could not read her mind nor comprehend the scruple which held her hand.  He was single-minded.  He had but one aim, one object.  He saw the haggard faces of brave men hopeless; he heard the dying cries of women and children.  Such an opportunity of saving God’s elect, of redeeming the innocent, was in his eyes a gift from Heaven.  And having these thoughts and seeing her hesitate—­hesitate when every movement caused him agony, so imperative was haste, so precious the opportunity—­he could bear the suspense no longer.  When she did not answer he stooped forward, until his knees touched the thwart on which Carlat had sat; then, without a word, he flung himself forward, and, with one hand far extended, grasped the packet.