The Trampling of the Lilies...............................................................................................................................1

Rafael Sabatini .........................................................................................................................................1

It was spring at Bellecour the spring of 1789, a short three months before the fall of the Bastille came to

give the nobles pause, and make them realise that these new philosophies, which so long they have derided,

By the brook, plashing its glittering course through the park of Bellecour, wandered La Boulaye, his long,

lean, figure clad with a sombreness that was out of harmony in that sunlit, vernal landscape. But the

sadhued coat belied that morning a heart that sang within his breast as joyously as any linnet of the woods

through which he strayed. That he was garbed in black was but the outward indication of his clerkly office,

for he was secretary to the most noble the Marquis de Fresnoy de Bellecour, and so clothed in the livery of

the ink by which he lived. His face was pale and lean and thoughtful, but within his great, intelligent eyes

there shone a light of newborn happiness. Under his arm he carried a volume of the new philosophies which

Rousseau had lately given to the world, and which was contributing so vastly to the mighty change that was

impending. But within his soul there dwelt in that hour no such musty subject as the metaphysical dreams of

old Rousseau. His mood inclined little to the "Discourses upon the Origin of Inequality" which his elbow

hugged to his side. Rather was it a mood of song and joy and things of light, and his mind was running on a

string of rhymes which mentally he offered up to his divinity. A highborn lady was she, daughter to his

lordly employer, the most noble Marquis of Bellecour. And he a secretary, a clerk! Aye, but a clerk with a

great soul, a secretary with a great belief in the things to come, which in that musty tome beneath his arm

And as he roamed beside the brook, his feet treading the elastic, velvety turf, and crushing heedlessly late

primrose and stray violet, his blood quickened by the soft spring breeze, fragrant with hawthorn and the smell

of the moist brown earth, La Boulaye's happiness gathered strength from the joy that on that day of spring

seemed to invest all Nature. An oldworld song stole from his firm lipsat first timidly, like a thing abashed

"Si le roi m'avait donne Paris, sa grande ville, Et qui'il me fallut quitter L'amour de ma mie, Je dirais au roi

How mercurial a thing is a lover's heart! Here was one whose habits were of solemnity and gloomy thought

turned, so joyous that he could sing aloud, alone in the midst of sunny Nature, for no better reason than that

Suzanne de Bellecour had yesternight smiled as for some two minutes by the clock she had stood

"Presumptuous that I am," said he to the rivulet, to contradict himself the next moment. "But no; the times are

He paused, and smiled pensively. And as again the memory of her yesternight's kindness rose before him, his

smile broadened; it became a laugh that went ringing down the glade, scaring a noisy thrush into silence and

sending it flying in affright across the scintillant waters of the brook. Then that hearty laugh broke sharply

off, as, behind him, the sweetest voice in all the world demanded the reason of this madsounding mirth.

La Boulaye's breath seemed in that instant to forsake him and he grew paler than Nature and the writer's desk

" Mademoiselle! You you see that you surprised me!" he faltered, like a fool. For how should he, whose

only comrades had been books, have learnt to bear himself in the company of a woman, particularly when she

belonged to the ranks of those whom despite Rousseau and his other dear philosophers he had been for

" Why, then, I am glad, Monsieur, that I surprised you in so gay a humour for, my faith, it is a rare enough

"True, lady," said he foolishly, yet politely agreeing with her, "it is a rare thing." And he sighed "Helas!"

At that the laughter leapt from her young lips, and turned him hot and cold as be stood awkwardly before her.

"I see that we shall have you sad at the thought of how rare is happiness, you that but a moment back were

or so it seemed so joyous. Or is it that my coming has overcast the sky of your good humour?" she

He blushed like a schoolgirl, and strenuously protested that it was not so. In his haste he fell headlong into

"Your coming, Mademoiselle?" he echoed. "Nay but even had I been sad, your coming must have dispelled

"A poet?" She mocked him playfully, with a toss of black curls and a distracting glance of eyes blue as the

heavens above them. "A poet, Monsieur, and I never suspected it, for all that I held you a great scholar. My

"Are we not all poets at some season of our lives?" quoth he, for growing accustomed to her presence

ravished by it, indeed his courage was returning fast and urging him beyond the limits of discretion.

"And in what season may this rhyming fancy touch us?" she asked. "Enlighten me, Monsieur."

He smiled, responsive to her merry mood, and his courage ever swelling under the suasion of it, he answered

her in a fearless, daring fashion that was oddly unlike his wont. But then, he was that day a man transformed.

" It comes, Mademoiselle, upon some spring morning such as this for is not spring the mating season, and

have not poets sung of it, inspired and conquered by it? It comes in the April of life, when in our hearts we

bear the first fragrant bud of what shall anon blossom into a glorious summer bloom red as is Love's livery

and perfumed beyond all else that God has set on earth for man's delight and thankfulness."

The intensity with which he spoke, and the essence of the speech itself, left her a moment dumb with wonder

and with an incomprehensible consternation, born of some intuition not yet understood.

"And so, Monsieur, the Secretary," said she at last, a nervous laugh quivering in her first words, "from all this

"Aye, that I love, dear lady," he cried, his eyes so intent upon her that her glance grew timid and fell before

them. And then, a second later, she could have screamed aloud in apprehension, for the book of Jean Jacques

Rousseau lay tumbled in the grass where he had flung it, even as he flung himself upon his knees before her.

The audacious words being spoken, his courage oozed away and anticlimax, followed. He paled and

trembled, yet he knelt on until she should bid him rise, and furtively he watched her face. He saw it darken;

he saw the brows knit; he noted the quickening breath, and in all these signs he read his doom before she

"Monsieur, monsieur," she answered him, and sad was her tone, "to what lengths do you urge this springtime

folly? Have you forgotten so your station yes, and mine that because I talk with you and laugh with you,

and am kind to you, you must presume to speak to me in this fashion? What answer shall I make you,

An odd thing indeed was La Boulaye's courage. An instant ago he had felt a very coward, and had quivered,

appalled by the audacity of his own words. Now that she assailed him thus, and taxed him with that same

audacity, the blood of anger rushed to his face anger of the quality that has its source in shame. In a second

he was on his feet before her, towering to the full of his lean height. The words came from him in a hot

stream, which for reckless passion by far outvied his erstwhile amatory address.

"My station?" he cried, throwing wide his arms. "What fault lies in my station? I am a secretary, a scholar,

and so, by academic right, a gentleman. Nay, Mademoiselle, never laugh; do not mock me yet. In what do

you find me less a man than any of the vapid caperers that fill your father's salon? Is not my shape as good?

Are not my arms as strong, my hands as deft, my wits as keen, and my soul as true? Aye," he pursued with

another wild wave of his long arms, "my attributes have all these virtues, and yet you scorn me you scorn

How she had angered him! All the pentup gall of years against the supercilia of the class from which she

sprang surged in that moment to his lips. He bethought him now of the thousand humiliations his proud spirit

had suffered at their hands when he noted the disdain with which they addressed him, speaking to him

because he was compelled to carve his living with a quill as though he were less than mire. It was not so

much against her scorn of him that he voiced his bitter grievance, but against the entire noblesse of France,

which denied him the right to carry a high head because he had not been born of Madame la Duchesse,

Madame la Marquise, or Madame la Comtesse. All the great thoughts of a wondrous transformation, which

had been sown in him by the revolutionary philosophers he had devoured with such appreciation, welled up

now, and such scraps of that infinity of thought as could find utterance he cast before the woman who had

scorned him for his station. Presumptuous he had accounted himself but only until she had found him so.

By that the presumption, it seemed, had been lifted from him, and he held that what he had said to her of the

love he bore her was no more than by virtue of his manhood he had the right to say.

She drew back before him, and shrank in some measure of fear, for he looked very fierce. Moreover, he had

said things which professed him a revolutionist, and the revolutionists, whilst being a class which she had

been taught to despise and scorn, dealt, she knew, in a violence which it might be ill to excite.

"Monsieur," she faltered, and with her hand she clutched at her ridinghabit of green velvet, as if preparing to

depart, "you are not yourself. I am beyond measure desolated that you should have so spoken to me. We have

been good friends, M. La Boulaye. Let us forget this scene. Shall we?" Her tones grew seductively

La Boulaye half turned from her, and his smouldering eye fell upon "The Discourses" lying on the grass. He

stooped and picked up the volume. The act might have seemed symbolical. For a moment he had cast aside

his creed to woo a woman, and now that she had denied him he returned to Rousseau, and gathered up the

"I am quite myself, Mademoiselle," he answered quietly. His cheeks were flushed, but beyond that, his

excitement seemed to have withered. "It is you who yesternight, for one brief moment and again today

were not yourself, and to that you owe it that I have spoken to you as I have done."

Between these two it would seem as the humour of the one waned, that of the other waxed. Her glance

"I?" she echoed. "I was not myself? What are you saying, Monsieur the Secretary?"

"Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed, angrily interrupting him. "See what you are for all your highsounding vaunts of

yourself and your attributes! A woman may not smile upon you, may not say one kind word to you, but you

must imagine you have made a conquest. Ma foi, you and yours do not deserve to be treated as anything but

vassals. When we show you a kindness, see how you abuse it. We extend to you our little finger and you

instantly lay claim to the whole arm. Because last night I permitted myself to exchange a jest with you,

"Stop!" he cried, rousing himself once more. "That is too much to say, Mademoiselle. To tell a woman that

you love her is never to insult her. To be loved is never to be slighted. Upon the meanest of His creatures it is

enjoined to love the same God whom the King loves, and there is no insult to God in professing love for Him.

"Monsieur, you put questions I have no mind to answer; you suggest a discussion I have no inclination to

pursue. For you and me let it suffice that I account myself affronted by your words, your tone, and your

manner. You drive me to say these things; by your insistence you compel me to be harsh. We will end this

matter here and now, Monsieur, and I will ask you to understand that I never wish it reopened, else shall I be

"You may seek it now, Suzanne," quoth a voice from the thicket at her back, a voice which came to startle

both of them though in different ways. Before they had recovered from their surprise the Marquis de

Bellecour stood before them. He was a tall man of some fifty years of age, but so powerful of frame and so

scrupulous in dress that he might have conveyed an impression of more youth. His face, though handsome in

a highbred way, was puffed and of an unhealthy yellow. But the eyes were as keen as the mouth was

voluptuous, and in his carefully dressed black hair there were few strands of grey.

He came slowly forward, and his lowering glance wandered from his daughter to his secretary in inquiry. At

"It is nothing, Monsieur," his daughter answered him. "A trifling affair 'twixt M. la Boulaye and me, with

"It is not nothing, my lord," cried La Boulaye, his voice vibrating oddly. "It is that I love your daughter and

The Marquis glanced at him in dull amazement. Then a flush crept into his sallow cheeks and mounted to his

He carried a ridingswitch, and he seemed to grasp it now in a manner peculiarly menacing. But La Boulaye

was nothing daunted. Lost he already accounted himself, and on the strength of the logic that if a man must

hang, a sheep as well as a lamb may be the cause of it, he took what chances the time afforded him to pile up

"There is neither insolence nor presumption in what I have done," he answered, giving back the Marquis look

for look and scowl for scowl. "You deem it so because I am the secretary to the Marquis de Bellecour and she

is the daughter of that same Marquis. But these are no more than the fortuitous circumstances in which we

chance to find ourselves. That she is a woman must take rank before the fact that she is your daughter, and

that I am a man must take rank before the fact that I am your secretary. Not, then, as your secretary speaking

to your daughter have I told this lady that I love her, but as a man speaking to a woman. To utter that should

be nay, is the right of every man; to hear it should be honouring to every woman worthy of the name. In a

"A thousand devils!" blazed the Marquis, unable longer to contain himself. "Am I to have my ears offended

by this braying? Miserable scum, you shall be taught what is due to your betters."

His whip cracked suddenly, and the lash leapt serpentlike into the air, to descend and coil itself about La

Boulaye's head and face. A cry broke from the young man, as much of pain as of surprise, and as the lash was

drawn back, he clapped his hands to his seared face. But again he felt it, cutting him now across the hand

with which he had masked himself. With a maddened roar he sprang upon his aggressor. In height he was the

equal of the Marquis, but in weight he seemed to be scarce more than the half of his opponent's. Yet a

Mademoiselle stood by looking on, with parted lips and eyes that were intent and anxious. She saw that

figure, spare and lithe as a greyhound, leap suddenly upon her father, and the next instant the whip was in the

secretary's hands, and he sprang back from the nobleman, who stood white and quivering with rage, and

"That I do not break it across your back, M. le Marquis, said the young man, as he snapped the whip on his

knee, "you may thank your years." With that he flung the two pieces wide into the sunlit waters of the brook.

"But I will have satisfaction, Monsieur. I will take payment for this." And he pointed to the weal that

"Satisfaction?" roared the Marquis, hoarse in his passion. "Would you demand satisfaction of me, animal?"

"No," answered the young man, with a wry smile. "Your years again protect you. But you have a son, and if

by tomorrow it should come to pass that you have a son no more, you may account yourself, through this"

"Do you mean that you would seek to cross swords with the Vicomte?" gasped the nobleman, in an unbelief

"That is what I mean, Monsieur. In practice he has often done so. He shall do so for once in actual earnest."

"Fool!" was the contemptuous answer, more coldly delivered now, for the Marquis was getting himself in

hand. "If you come near Bellecour again, if you are so much as found within the grounds of the park, I'll have

you beaten to death by my grooms for your presumption. Keep you the memory of that promise in mind, Sir

Secretary, and let it warn you to avoid Bellecour, as you would a plaguehouse. Come, Suzanne," he said,

turning abruptly to his daughter, "Enough of this delightful morning have we already wasted on this canaille."

With that he offered her his wrist, and so, without so much as another glance at La Boulaye, she took her

The secretary remained where they had left him, pale of face saving the fortuitous crimson mark which the

whip had cut and very sick at heart. The heat of the moment being spent, he had leisure to contemplate his

plight. A scorned lover, a beaten man, a dismissed secretary! He looked sorrowfully upon his volume of "The

Discourses," and for the first time a doubt crossed his mind touching the wisdom of old Jean Jacques. Was

there would there ever be any remedy for such a condition of things as now prevailed?

Already the trees had hidden the Marquis and his daughter from La Boulaye's sight. The young revolutionist

felt weary and lonely dear God, how lonely! neither kith nor kin had he, and of late all the interest of his

life saving always that absorbed by Jean Jacques had lain in watching Suzanne de Bellecour, and in

loving her silently and distantly. Now that little crumb of comfort was to be his no more, he was to go away

from Bellecour, away from the sight of her for all time. And he loved her, loved her, loved her!

He tossed his arms to Heaven with a great sigh that was a sob almost, then he passed his hands over his face,

and as they came in contact with the swollen ridge that scored it, love faded from his mind, and

Then turning, and with "The Discourses " held tightly to his side, he moved slowly away, following the

One friend did La Boulaye count in the village of Bellecour. This was old Duhamel, the schoolmaster, an

eccentric pedant and a fellowworshipper of the immortal Jean Jacques. It was to him that La Boulaye now

repaired intent upon seeking counsel touching a future that wore that morning a singularly gloomy outlook.

He found Duhamel's door open, and he stepped across the threshold into the chief room of the house. But

there he paused, and hesitated. The chamber was crowded with people in holiday attire, and the centre of

attraction was a wellsetup peasant with a happy, suntanned face, whose golden locks were covered by a

At sight of him La Boulaye remembered that it was Charlot's weddingday. Popular amongst the women by

virtue of his comeliness, and respected by the men by virtue of his strength, Charlot Tardivet was a general

favourite of the countryside, and here, in the room of old Duhamel, the schoolmaster, was half the village

gathered to do him honour upon his wedding morn. It was like Duhamel, who, in fatherliness towards the

villagers, went near outrivalling M. le Cure, to throw open his house for the assembling of Charlot's friends,

and La Boulaye was touched by this fresh sign of kindliness from a man whose good heart he had not lacked

occasion to observe and appreciate. But it came to the secretary that there was no place for him in this happy

assemblage. His advent would, probably, but serve to cast a gloom upon them, considering the conditions

under which he came, with the signs of violence upon his face to remind them of the lords of life and death

who dwelt at the Chateau up yonder. And such a reminder must fall upon them as does the reminder of some

overhanging evil clutch suddenly at our hearts in happy moments of forgetfulness. To let them be happy that

day, to leave their feasts free of a death's head, La Boulaye would have withdrawn had he not already been

too late. Duhamel had espied him, and the little, wizened old man came hurrying forward, his hornrimmed

spectacles perched on the very end of his nose, his keen little eyes beaming with delight and welcome.

"Ah, Caron, you are very choicely come," he cried, holding out both hands to La Boulaye. "You shall

embrace our happy Hercules yonder, and wish him joy of the wedded life he has the audacity to exploit."

Then, as he espied the crimson ridge across the secretary's countenance, "Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, "what

"Pish! It is nothing," answered La Boulaye hurriedly, and would have had the subject dismissed, but that one

of the onlooking peasants swore by the memory of some longdead saint that it was the cut of a whip.

Duhamel's eyes kindled and his parchmentlike skin was puckered into a hundred evil wrinkles.

"Since you insist, old master," answered the secretary, still endeavouring to make light of it, "learn that is the

"Sh! let it be. Perhaps I braved him overmuch. I will tell you of it when these good folks have gone. Do not

let us cast a gloom over their happiness, old master. And now to embrace this good Charlot."

Though inwardly burning with curiosity and boiling with indignation, Duhamel permitted himself to be

guided by La Boulaye, and for the moment allowed the matter to rest. La Boulaye himself laughingly set

aside the many questions with which they pressed him. He drank the health of the brideelect who was not

yet of the party and he pledged the happiness of the pair. He embraced Charlot, and even went so far as to

urge upon him, out of his own scanty store, a louis d'or with which to buy Marie a trinket in memory of him.

Then presently came one with the announcement that M. le Cure was waiting, and in answer to that reminder

that there was a ceremony to be gone through, Charlot and his friends flung out of the house in joyous

confusion, and went their way with laughter and jest to the little church of St. Ildefonse.

"We will follow presently M. la Boulaye and I Charlot," Duhamel had said, as the sturdy bridegroom was

departing. "We shall be there to shake Madame by the hand and wish her joy of you."

When at last they were alone in the schoolmaster's room, the old man turned to La Boulaye, the very

embodiment of a note of interrogation. The secretary told him all that had passed. He reddened slightly when

it came to speaking of his love for Mlle. de Bellecour, but he realised that if he would have guidance he must

Duhamel's face grew dark as the young man spoke, and his eyes became sad and very thoughtful.

"Alas!" he sighed, when La Boulaye had ended. "What shall I say to you, my friend? The time is not yet for

such as we you and I to speak of love for a daughter of the Seigneurie. It is coming, I doubt it not. All

things have their climax, and France is tending swiftly to the climax of her serfdom. Very soon we shall have

the crisis, this fire that is already smouldering, will leap into a great blaze, that shall lick the old regime as

completely from the face of history as though it had never been. A new condition of things will spring up, of

that I am convinced. Does not history afford us many instances? And what is history but the repetition of

events under similar circumstances with different peoples. It will come in France, and it will come soon, for it

"I know, I know, old master," broke in La Boulaye; "but how shall all this help me? For all that I have the

welfare of France at heart, it weighs little with me at the moment by comparison with my own affairs. What

am I to do, Duhamel? How am I to take payment for this?" And he pressed his finger to his seared cheek.

"Wait," said the old man impressively. "That is the moral you might have drawn from what I have said. Be

patient. I promise you your patience shall not be overtaxed. Today they say that you presume; that you are

not one of them although, by my soul, you have as good an air as any nobleman in France." And he eyed

the lean height of the secretary with a glance of such pride as a father might take in a wellgrown son.

Elegant of figure, La Boulaye was no less elegant in dress, for all that, from head to foot saving the silver

buckles on his shoes and the unpretentious lace at throat and wrists he was dressed in the black that his

office demanded. His countenance, too, though cast in a mould of thoughtfulness that bordered on the

melancholy, bore a lofty stamp that might have passed for birth and breeding, and this was enhanced by the

careful dressing of his black unpowdered hair, gathered into a club by a broad ribbon of black silk.

"But what shall waiting avail me?" cried the young man, with some impatience. "What am I to do in the

"Go to Amiens," said the other. "You have learning, you have eloquence, you have a presence and an

excellent address. For success no better attributes could be yours." He approached the secretary, and

instinctively lowered his voice. "We have a little club there a sort of succursal to the Jacobins. We are

numerous, but we have no very shining member yet. Come with me, and I will nominate you. Beginning

thus, I promise you that you shall presently become a man of prominence in Picardy. Anon we may send you

to Paris to represent us in the StatesGeneral. Then, when the change comes, who shall say to what heights it

"I will think of it," answered La Boulaye cordially, "and not a doubt of it but that I will come. I did not know

"Sh! You know now. Let that suffice. It is not good to talk of these things just yet."

"But in the meantime," La Boulaye persisted, "what of this?" And again he pointed to his cheek.

"I promised the Marquis that I would demand satisfaction of his son, and I am tempted to do so and risk the

"I am afraid the consequences will be the only satisfaction that you will get. In fact, they will be anticipations

"I know not that," he answered. "The lad is more generous than his sire, and if I were to send him word that I

have been affronted, he might consent to meet me. For the rest, I could kill him blindfolded," he added, with

"Bloodthirsty animal!" rejoined Duhamel. "Unnatural tutor! Do you forget that you were the boy's

With that Duhamel carried the argument into new fields, and showed La Boulaye that to avenge upon the

young Vicomte the insults received at the hands of the old Marquis was hardly a worthy method of taking

vengeance. At last he won him to his way, and it was settled that on the morrow La Boulaye should journey

"But, Caron, we are forgetting our friend Charlot and his bride," he broke off suddenly. "Come, boy; the

He took La Boulaye by the arm, and led him out and down the street to the open space opposite St. Ildefonse.

The weddingparty was streaming out through the door of the little church into the warm sunshine of that

April morning. In the churchyard they formed into a procession of happy beribboned and nosegayed men

and women the young preceding, the old following, the bridal couple. Two by two they came, and the air

rang with their laughter and joyous chatter. Then another sound arose, and if the secretary and the pedagogue

could have guessed of what that beating of hoofs was to be the prelude, they had scarce smiled so easily as

>From a side street there now emerged a gaily apparelled cavalcade. At its head rode the Marquis de

Bellecour, the Vicomte, and a halfdozen other gentlemen, followed by, perhaps, a dozen lacqueys. It was a

hunting party that was making its way across the village to the open country beyond. The bridal procession

crossing their path caused them to draw rein, and to wait until it should have passed which argued a very

condescending humour, for it would not have been out of keeping with their habits to have ridden headlong

through it. Their presence cast a restraint upon the peasants. The jests were silenced, the laughter hushed, and

like a flight of pigeons under the eye of the hawk, they scurried past the Seigneurie, and some of them prayed

Bellecour eyed them in cold disdain, until presently Charlot and his bride were abreast of him. Then his eye

seemed to take life and his sallow face to kindle into expression. He leant lightly from the saddle.

"Stay!" he commanded coldly, and as they came to a halt, daring not to disobey him "approach, girl," he

Charlot's brows grew black. He looked up at the Marquis, but if his glance was sullen and threatening, it was

also not free from fear. Marie obeyed, with eyes downcast and a heightened colour. If she conjectured at all

why they had been stopped, it was but to conclude that M. le Marquis was about to offer her some mark of

"It was Marie Michelin, Monseigneur," she made answer timidly. "But it has just been changed to Marie

"C'est ca," he murmured, as if to himself, and his eyes taking such stock of her as made Charlot burn to tear

him from his horse. Then, in a kindly, fatherly voice, he added: "My felicitations, Marie; may you be a happy

"Merci, Monseigneur," she murmured, with crimson cheeks, whilst Charlot breathed once more, and from his

heart gave thanks to Heaven, believing the interview at an end. But he went too fast.

"Do you know, Marie, that you are a very comely child?" quoth the Marquis, in tones which made the

Some in that noble company nudged one another, and one there was who burst into a loud guffaw.

The Marquis moved on his horse that he might bend lower. With his forefinger he uptilted her chin, and now,

as she met his glance thus at close quarters, an unaccountable fear took possession of her, and the colour died

"Yes," said Bellecour, with a smile. "this Tardivet has good taste. My congratulations, to him. We must find

you a wedding gift, little woman," he continued more briskly. "It is an ancient and honoured custom that is

falling somewhat into neglect. Go up to the Chateau with Blaise and Jean there. This good Tardivet must curb

He turned in his saddle, and beckoning the two servants he had named, he bade Marie to mount behind

She drew back now, her cheeks white as those of the dead. With a wild terror in her eyes she turned to

Charlot, who stood the very picture of anguish and impotent rage. In the cortege, where but a few moments

"By my faith," laughed Bellecour contemptuously eyeing their dejection, "you have more the air of a burial

"Mercy my lord!" cried the agonised voice of Charlot, as, distraught with grief, he flung himself before the

But Charlot was obstinate. The Marquis might be claiming no more than by ancient law was the due of the

Seigneur, but Charlot was by no means minded to submit in craven acquiescence to that brutal, barbarous

"My lord," he cried, "you shall not take her. She is my wife. She belongs to me. You shall not take her!"

He caught hold of the Marquis's bridle with such a strength and angry will that the horse was forced to back

"Insolent clod!" exclaimed Bellecour, with an angry laugh and a sharp, downward blow of the butt of his

whip upon the peasant's head. Charlot's hand grew nerveless and released the bridle as he sank stunned to the

ground. Bellecour touched his horse with the spur and rode over the prostrate fellow with no more concern

than had he been a dog's carcase. "Blaise, see to the girl," he called over his shoulder, adding to his company:

Not a hand was raised to stay him, not a word of protest uttered, as the nobles rode by, laughing, and chatting

among themselves, with the utmost unconcern of the tragedy that was being enacted.

Like a flock of frightened sheep the peasants stood huddled together and watched them go. In the same

inaction for all that not a little grief was blent with the terror on their countenances they stood by and

allowed Blaise to lift the halfswooning girl to the withers of his horse. No reply had they to the coarse jest

with which he and his fellowservant rode off. But La Boulaye, who, from the point where he and Duhamel

had halted, had observed the whole scene from its inception, turned now a livid face upon his companion.

"Shall such things be?" he cried passionately. "Merciful God! Are we men, Duhamel, and do we permit such

The old pedagogue shrugged his shoulders in despair. His face was heavily scored by sorrow.

"Helas!" he sighed. "Are they not masters of all that they may take? The Marquis goes no further than is by

ancient law allowed his class. It is the law needs altering, my friend, and then the men will alter. Meanwhile,

"Lords of hell are they!" blazed the young revolutionist. "That is where they belong, whence they are come,

and whither they shall return. Poltroons!" he cried, shaking his fist at the group of cowed peasants that

surrounded the prostrate Charlot "Sheep! Worthless clods! The nobles do well to despise you, for, by my

faith, you invite nothing but contempt, you that will suffer rape and murder to be done under your eyes, and

"Blame not these poor wretches, Caron," sighed the old man. "They dare not raise a hand."

"Then, pardieu! here, at least, is one who does dare," he cried furiously, as from the breast pocket of his coat

Blaise, with the girl across the withers of his horse, was approaching them, followed by Jean.

"What would you do?" cried the old man fearfully, setting a restraining hand upon La Boulaye's sleeve. But

"This," was all he answered, and simultaneously, he levelled his pistol and fired at Blaise.

Shot through the head, the servant collapsed forward; then, as the horse reared and started off at a gallop, he

toppled sideways and fell. The girl went down with him and lay in the road whilst he was dragged along, his

head bumping horribly on the stones as faster and faster went the frightened horse.

With a shout that may have been either anger or dismay Jean reined in his horse, and sat for a second

hesitating whether to begin by recovering the girl, or avenging his comrade. But his doubts were solved for

"Begone!" cried the secretary, "unless you prefer to go by the road I've sent your fellow." And being a

discreet youth, Jean made off in silence by the street down which poor Blaise had been dragged.

"Carom" cried Duhamel, in a frenzy of apprehension. "I tremble for you, my son. Fly from Bellecour at once

But Caron had already left his side to repair to the spot where Marie was lying. The peasantry followed him,

though leisurely, in their timid hesitation. They were asking themselves whether, even so remotely as by

tending the girl, they dared participate in the violence La Boulaye had committed. That a swift vengeance

would be the Seigneur's answer they were well assured, and a great fear possessed them that in that

vengeance those of the Chateau might lack discrimination. Charlot was amongst them, and on his feet, but

still too dazed to have a clear knowledge of the circumstances. Presently, however, his faculties awakening

and taking in the situation, he staggered forward, and came lurching towards La Boulaye, who was assisting

the frightened Marie to rise. With a great sob the girl flung herself into her husband's arms.

"Charlot, mon Charlot!" she cried, and added a moment later: "It was he this brave gentleman who

He would have said more, but the peasants, stirred by fear, now roused themselves and plucked at his coat.

"Get you gone, Charlot, Get you gone quickly," they advised him. "And if you are wise you will leave

"It is not safe for any of us," exclaimed one. "I have no mind to be caught when the Seigneur returns. There

The warning acted magically. There were hurried leavetakings, and then, like a parcel of scuttling rabbits,

they made for their burrows to hide from the huntsman that would not be long in coming. And ere the last of

them was out of sight there arose a stamping of hoofs and a chorus of angry voices. Down tine street

thundered the Marquis's cavalcade, brought back by the servant who had escaped and who had ridden after

them. Some anger there was particularly in the heart of the Lord of Bellecour but greater than their anger

was their excitement at the prospect of a manhunt, with which the chase on which they had been originally

"There he is, Monseigneur" cried Jean, as he pointed to La Boulaye. "And yonder are the girl and her

"Ah! The secretary again, eh?" laughed the nobleman, grimly, as he came nearer. "Ma foi, life must have

Caron stood before him, pale in his impotent rage, which was directed as much against the peasants who had

fled as against the nobles who approached. Had these clods but stood there, and defended themselves and

their manhood with sticks and stones and such weapons as came to their hands, they might have taken pride

in being trampled beneath the hoofs of the Seigneurie. Thus, at least, might they have proved themselves

men. But to fly thus some fifty of them from the approach of less than a score was to confess

unworthiness of a better fate than that of which their seigneurs rendered themselves the instruments.

Himself he could do no more than the single shot in his pistol would allow. That much, however, he would

do, and like him whose resources are reduced, and yet who desires to spend the little that he has to best

advantage, he levelled the weapon boldly at the advancing Marquis, and pulled the trigger. But Bellecour was

an old campaigner, and by an old campaigner's trick he saved himself at the last moment. At sight of that

levelled barrel he pulled his horse suddenly on to its haunches, and received the charge in the animal's belly.

With a shriek of pain the horse sought to recover its feet, then tumbled forward hurling the Marquis from the

saddle. La Boulaye had an inspiration to fling himself upon the old roue and seek with his hands to kill him

before they made an end of himself. But ere he could move to execute his design a horseman was almost on

top of him. He received a stunning blow on the head. The daylight faded in his eyes, he felt a sensation of

When La Boulaye recovered consciousness he was lying on his back in the middle of the courtyard of the

Chateau de Bellecour. From a great stone balcony above, a little group, of which Mademoiselle de Bellecour

was the centre, observed the scene about the captive, who was being resuscitated that he might fittingly

She had returned from the morning's affair in the park with a conscience not altogether easy. To have stood

by whilst her father had struck Caron, and moreover, to have done so without any sense of horror, or even of

regret, was a matter in which she asked herself whether she had done well. Certainly La Boulaye had

presumed unpardonably in speaking to her as he had spoken, and for his presumption it was fitting that he

should be punished. Had she interfered she must have seemed to sympathise, and thus the lesson might have

suffered in salutariness. And yet Caron La Boulaye was a man of most excellent exterior, and, when passion

had roused him out of his restraint and awkwardness, of most ardent and eloquent address. The very

sombreness that be it from his mournful garments or from a mind of thoughtful habit seemed to envelop

him was but an additional note of poetry in a personality which struck her now as eminently poetical. In the

seclusion of her own chamber, as she recalled the burning words and the fall of her father's whip upon the

young man's pale face, she even permitted herself to sigh. Had he but been of her own station, he had been

such a man as she would have taken pride in being wooed by. As it was she halted there and laughed

disdainfully, yet with never so faint a note of regret. It was absurd! She was Mademoiselle de Bellecour, and

he her father's secretary; educated, if you will aye, and beyond his station but a vassal withal, and very

humbly born. Yes, it was absurd, she told herself again: the eagle may not mate with the sparrow.

And when presently she had come from her chamber, she had been greeted with the story of a rebellion in the

village, and an attempted assassination of her father. The ringleader, she was told, had been brought to the

Chateau, and he was even then in the courtyard and about to be hanged by the Marquis. Curious to behold

this unfortunate, she had stepped out on to the balcony where already an idle group had formed. Inexpressible

had been her shock upon seeing him that lay below, his white face upturned to the heavens, his eyes closed.

"Not yet Mademoiselle," answered the graceful Chevalier de Jacquelin, toying with his solitaire. "Your father

And then she heard her father's voice behind her. The Marquis had stepped out on to the balcony to ascertain

"Ah, you are there, Suzanne," cried Bellecour. "You see your friend the secretary there. He has chosen to

present himself in a new role today. From being my servant, it seems that he would constitute himself my

However unfilial it might be, she could not stifle a certain sympathy for this young man. She imagined that

his rebellion, whatever shape it had assumed, had been provoked by that weal upon his face; and it seemed to

her then that he had been less than a man had he not attempted to exact some reparation for the hurt the whip

"But what is it that he has done, Monsieur?" she asked, seeking more than the scant information which so far

"Enough, at least, to justify my hanging him," answered Bellecour grimly. "He sought to withstand my

authority; he incited the peasants of Bellecour to withstand it; he has killed Blaise, and he would have killed

"What doers the manner of it signify?" he asked impatiently. "Is not the fact enough? Is it not enough that

"Insolent hound that he is!" put in Madame la Marquise a fleshly lady monstrously coiffed. "If we allow

"They say that you are going to hang him," said Suzanne, heedless of her mother's words, and there was the

"To keep my word, madame," he answered her. "I promised that canaille that if he ever came within the

grounds of Bellecour I would have him flogged to death. That is what I propose."

"Father," gasped Suzanne, in horror, a horror that was echoed by the other three or four ladies present. But

"He will be; richly served," she approved, with a sage nod of her pumpkinlike headdress "most richly

A great pity arose now in the heart of Mademoiselle, as her father went below that he might carry out his

barbarous design. She was deaf to the dainty trifles which the most elegant Chevalier de Jacquelin was

murmuring into heir ear. She stood, a tall, queenly figure, at the balcony's parapet and watched the

She heard her father's harshlyvoiced commands. She saw them literally tear the clothes from the unfortunate

secretary's back, and lash him naked to the waist to the pump that stood by the horsetrough at the far

end of the yard. His body was now hidden from her sight, but his head appeared surmounting the pillar of the

pump, his chin seeming to rest upon its summit, and his face was towards her. At his side stood a powerful

"How many?" echoed the Marquise. "Do I know how many it will take to make an end of him? Beat him to

She saw the man uncoil his lash and step forward. In that instant Caron's eyes were raised, and they met hers

across the intervening space. He smiled a valedictory smile that seemed to make her heart stand still. She and

her mother were now the only women on the balcony. The others had made haste to withdraw as soon as La

Boulaye had been pilloried. The Marquise remained because she seemed to find entertainment in the

spectacle. Suzanne remained because horror rooted her to the spot horror and a great pity for this

unfortunate who had looked so strong and brave that morning, when he had had the audacity to tell her that

The lash sang through the air, quivered, hummed, and cut with a sickening crackle into the young man's flesh.

The hideous sound roused her She shuddered from head to foot, and turning she put her hands to her face and

"Mon Dieu! It is horrible! Horrible!" she cried as she sank into the nearest chair, and clapped her hands to her

ears. But she could not shut it out. Still she heard the humming of the whip and the cruel sound of the falling

blows. Mechanically she counted them, unconsciously almost, and at twenty she heard them cease. Was it

over? Was he dead, this poor unfortunate? Moved by a curiosity that was greater than her loathing, she rose

"Ended?" echoed Monsieur de Jacquelin, with a shrug. "It is scarce begun, it seems. The executioner is

pausing for breath, that is all. The fellow has not uttered a sound. He is as obstinate as a mule."

"As enduring as a Spartan," more generously put in the Vicomte, her brother. "Look at him, Suzanne."

Almost involuntarily she obeyed, and moved forward a step that she might behold him. A face, deathly pale,

she saw, which in the sunshine glistened with the sweat of agony that bedewed it; but the lips were tightly

closed and the countenance grimly expressionless. Even as she looked she heard her father command the man

to lay on anew. Then, as before, his eyes met hers; but this time no smile did she see investing them.

Again the whip cracked and fell. She drew back, but his glance seemed to haunt her even when she no longer

saw his face. A sudden resolution moved her, and in a frenzy of anger and compassion she flung out of the

"Stop!" she commanded shrilly, causing both her father and the executioner to turn, and the latter pausing in

his hideous work. But a glance from the Marquis bade him resume, and resume he did, as though there had

"What is this?" demanded Bellecour, half amused, half vexed, whilst a sudden new light leapt to the eyes of

But Mademoiselle never paused to answer her father. Seeing the executioner proceeding, despite her call to

cease, she sprang upon him, caught him by the arms and wrested the whip from hands that dared not resist

"Did I not bid you stop?" she blazed, her face white, her eyes on fire; and raising the whip she brought it

down upon his head and shoulders, not once but halfadozen times in quick succession, until he fled,

howling, to the other side of the horse trough for shelter. "It stings you, does it" she cried, whilst the Marquis,

from angered that at first he had been, now burst into a laugh at her fury and at this turning of tables upon the

executioner. She made shift to pursue the fellow to his place of refuge, but coming of a sudden upon the

ghastly sight presented by La Boulaye's lacerated back, she drew back in horror. Then, mastering herself

for girl though she was, her courage was of a high order she turned to her father.

"I will see that you are rid of him," she promised. "What more can you desire? You have tortured him

She answered him with renewed insistence, and unexpectedly she received an ally in M. des Cadoux an

elderly gentleman who had been observing the flogging with disapproval, and who had followed her into the

"He is too brave a man to die like this, Bellecour," put in the newcomer. "I doubt if he can survive the

punishment he has already received. Yet I would ask you, in the name of courage, to give him the slender

"I promised him he should be flogged to death " began the Marquis, when Des Cadoux and Mademoiselle

"But, sangdieu," the Marquis protested "you seem to forget that he has killed one of my servants."

"Why, then, you should have hanged him out of hand, not tortured him thus," answered Des Cadoux shortly.

For a moment it almost seemed as if the pair of them would have fallen aquarrelling. Their words grew

more heated, and then, while they were still wrangling, the executioner came forward to solve matters with

the news that the secretary had expired. To Bellecour this proved a very welcome conclusion.

"Most opportunely!" he laughed "Had the rascal lived another minute I think we had quarrelled, Cadoux." He

"Look, Monsieur," said the fellow, as he pointed with his whip to the pilloried figure of La Boulaye. The

Marquis looked, and saw that the secretary had collapsed, and hung limp in his bonds, his head fallen back

"You may take the carrion, if you want to. But I think you can do no more than order it to be flung into a

But she had no mind to be advised by him. She had the young man's body cut down from the pump, and she

bade a couple of servants convey it to the house of Master Duhamel, she for remembered that La Boulaye and

"An odd thing is a woman's heart," grumbled the Marquis, who begrudged La Boulaye even his last act of

mercy. "She may care never a fig for a man, and yet, if he has but told her that he loves her, be he never so

mean and she never so exalted, he seems thereby to establish some measure of claim to her."

The Marquis of Bellecour would, perhaps have philosophised less complacently had he known that the

secretary was far from dead, and that what the executioner had, genuinely enough, mistaken for death was no

more than a passing swoon. Under ordinary circumstances he might not have been satisfied to have taken the

fellow's word; he would himself have ascertained the truth of the statement by a close inspection of the

victim. But, as we have seen, the news came as so desirable a solution to the altercation that was waxing

'twixt himself and Des Cadoux that he was more than glad to avail himself of it.

The discovery that Caron lived was made while they were cutting him down from his pillory, and just as the

Marquis was turning to go within. A flutter of the eyelids and a gasp for breath announced the fact, and the

executioner was on the point of crying out his discovery when Mademoiselle's eyes flashed him a glance of

"Hush! There are ten louis for each of you if you but keep silent and carry him to Master Duhamel as I told

The secretary opened his eyes but saw nothing, and a low moan escaped him. She shot a fearful glance at the

retreating figure of her father, whilst Gilles the executioner hissed sharply into his ear:

Thus did he escape, and thus was he borne a limp, agonised, and bleeding mass, to the house of Duhamel.

The old schoolmaster received them with tears in his eyes nor were they altogether tears of sorrow, for all

that poor Caron's mangled condition grieved him sorely; they were in a measure tears of thankfulness; for

At the pedagogue's door stood a berline, and within his house there was a visitor. This was a slight young

man of medium stature, who had not the appearance of more than twentyfive years of age, for all that, as a

matter of fact, he was just over thirty. He was dressed with so scrupulous a neatness as to convey, in spite of

the dark colour of his garments, an impression almost of foppishness. There was an amplitude about his

cravat, an air of extreme care about the dressing of his wig and the powdering of it, and a shining brightness

about his buttons and the buckles of his shoes which seemed to proclaim the dandy, just as the sombreness of

the colour chosen seemed to deny it. In his singularly pale countenance a similar contradiction was

observable. The weak, kindly eyes almost appeared to give the lie to the astute prominence of his

cheekbones; the sensitiveness of the mouth seemed neutralised by the thinness of the lips, whilst the oddly

He was perfectly at ease in his surroundings, and as La Boulaye was carried into the schoolmaster's study and

laid on a couch, he came forward and peered curiously at the secretary's figure, voicing an inquiry concerning

"It is the young man of whom I was telling you, Maximilien," answered Duhamel. "I give thanks to God that

they have not killed him outright. It is a mercy I had not expected from those wolves, and one which, on my

"Monsieur," said Gilles, "will understand it better perhaps if I tell you that the Marquis believes him to be

dead. He was cut down for dead, and when we discovered that he still lived it was Mademoiselle who

prevailed upon us to save him. She is paying us to keep the secret, but not a fortune would tempt me if I

thought the Seigneur were ever likely to hear of it. He must be got away from Bellecour; indeed, he must be

got out of Picardy at once, Monsieur. And you must promise me that this shall be done or we will carry him

back to the Chateau and tell the Marquis that he has suddenly revived. I must insist, Monsieur; for if ever it

The stranger's weak eyes seemed to kindle in anger, and his lips curled until they exaggerated the already

"He would hang you, eh?" said he. "Ma foi, Duhamel, we shall change all this very soon, I promise you."

"God knows it needs changing," growled Duhamel. "It seems that it was only in the Old Testament that

Heaven interfered with human iniquity. Why it does not rain fire and brimstone on the Chateau de Bellecour

passes the understanding of a good Christian. I'll swear that in neither Sodom nor Gomorrah was villainy

The stranger plucked at his sleeve to remind him of the presence of the servants from the Chateau. Duhamel

"I will keep him concealed here until he is able to get about," he assured them. "Then I shall find him the

But Gilles shook his head, and his companion grunted an echo of his disapproval.

"That will not serve, master," he answered sullenly. "What if the Seigneur should have word of his presence

here? It is overdangerous. Someone may see him. No, no, Either he leaves Bellecour this very night, and

"Why, easily enough," put in the stranger. " Let me take him in my berline. I can leave him at Amiens or at

Beauvais, or any one of the convenient places that I pass. Or I can even carry him on to Paris with me."

"You are very good, Maximilien," answered the old man, to which the other returned a gesture of

In this fashion, then, was the matter settled to the satisfaction of the Seigneur's retainers, and upon having

received Duhamel's solemn promise that Caron should be carried out of Bellecour, and, for that matter, out of

Within the schoolmaster's study he whom Duhamel called Maximilien strode to and fro, his hands clasped

behind his back, his head bent, his chin thrust forward, denouncing the seigneurial system, of whose atrocity

he had received that evening instances enough for he had heard the whole story of La Boulaye's rebellion

"We will mend all this, I promise you, Duhamel," he was repeating. "But not until we have united to shield

the weak from oppression, to restrain the arrogant and to secure to each the possession of what belongs to

him; not until all men are free and started upon equal terms in the race of life; not until we shall have set up

rules of justice and of peace, to which all rich and poor, noble and simple alike shall be obliged to

conform. Thus only can we repair the evil done by the caprice of fortune, which causes the one to be born

into silk and the other into fustian. We must subject the weak and the mighty alike to mutual duties,

collecting our forces into the supreme power to govern us all impartially by the same laws, to protect alike all

members of the community, to repel our common foes and preserve us in neverending concord. How many

crimes, murders, wars, miseries, horrors shall thus be spared us, Duhamel? And it will come; it will come

Caron stirred on the couch where Duhamel was tending him, and raised his head to glance at the man who

"You have read the master?" he inquired, with a sudden, newborn interest in the secretary.

"Read him?" cried Carom forgetting for the moment the sore condition of his body in the delight of

discovering one who was bound to him by such bonds of sympathy as old Rousseau established.

"Read him, Monsieur? There is scarce a line in all his 'Discourses' that I do not know by heart, and that I do

not treasure, vaguely hoping and praying that some day such a state as he dreamt of may find itself

"Boy," he answered impressively, "Your hopes are on the eve of fruition, your prayers are about to be heard.

Yes even though it should entail trampling the Lilies of France into the very dust.

"Who are you, Monsieur?" asked La Boulaye, eyeing this prophet with growing interest.

"Robespierre is my name," was the answer, and to La Boulaye it conveyed no enlightenment, for the name of

Maximilien Marie Isidore de Robespierre, which within so very short a time was to mean so much in France,

La Boulaye inclined his head as if acknowledging an introduction, then turned his attention to Duhamel who

was offering him a cup of wine. He drank gratefully, and the invigorating effects were almost instantaneous.

"Now let us see to your hurts," said the schoolmaster, who had taken some linen and a pot of unguents from a

cupboard. La Boulaye sat up, and what time Duhamel was busy dressing his lacerated back, the young man

"As a deputy, Monsieur. My friends of Arras have elected me to the Third Estate of Artois."

"Dieu! How I envy you!" exclaimed La Boulaye, to cry out a moment later in the pain to which Duhamel's

wellintentioned operations were subjecting him. "I would it might be mine," he added presently, "to take a

hand in legislation, and the mending of it; for as it stands at present it is inferior far to the lawless anarchy of

the aborigines. Among them, at least, the conditions are more normal, they offer better balance between

faculty and execution; they are by far more propitious to happiness and order than is this broken wreck of

civilisation that we call France. It is to equality alone," he continued, warming to his subject, "that Nature has

attached the preservation of our social faculties, and all legislation that aims at being efficient should be

directed to the establishment of equality. As it is, the rich will always prefer their own fortune to that of the

State, whilst the poor will never love nor can love a condition of laws that leaves them in misery."

Robespierre eyed the young man in some surprise. His delivery was impassioned, and although in what he

said there was perhaps nothing that was fresh to the lawyer of Arras, yet the manner in which he said it was

"But Duhamel," he cried to the schoolmaster, "you did not tell me this young patriot was an orator."

"Nor am I, Monsieur," smiled La Boulaye. "I am but the mouthpiece of the great Rousseau. I have so

assimilated his thoughts that they come from me as spontaneously as if they were my own, and often I go so

No better recommendation than this could he have had to the attention of Robespierre, who was himself

much in the same case, imbued with and inspired by those doctrines, so ideal in theory, but, alas! so difficult,

so impossible in practice. For fully an hour they sat and talked, and each improved in his liking of the other,

until at last, bethinking him of the flight of time, Robespierre announced that he must start.

"Ma foi, yes; and if with such gifts as Nature appears to have given him, and such cultivation of them as,

through the teachings of Rousseau, he has effected, I do not make something of him, why, then, I am

They made their adieux, and the schoolmaster, opening his door, peered out. The street was deserted save

forte Robespierre's berline and his impatient postillion. Between them Duhamel and Maximilien assisted

Caron to the door of the carriage. The moving subjected him to an excruciating agony, but he caught his

nether lip in his teeth, and never allowed them to suspect it. As they raised him into the berline, however, he

toppled forward, fainting. Duhamel hastened indoors for a cordial, and brought also some pillows with which

to promote the young man's comfort on the journey that was before him or, rather, to lessen the discomfort

Caron recovered before they started, and with tears in his eyes he thanked old Duhamel and voiced a hope

Then Robespierre jumped nimbly into the berline. The door closed, the postillion's whip cracked briskly, and

they set out upon a journey which to La Boulaye was to be as the passing from one life to another.

There were roars of anger and screams of terror in the night, and above the Chateau de Bellecour the inky

blackness of the heavens was broken by a dull red glow, which the distant wayfarer might have mistaken for

the roseate tint of dawn, were it possible for the dawn to restrict itself to so narrow an area.

Ever and anon a tongue of flame would lick up into the night towards that russet patch of sky, betraying the

cause of it and proclaiming that incendiaries were at work. Above the ominous din that told of the business

afoot there came now and again the crack of a musket, and dominating all other sounds was the sullen roar of

the revolted peasants, the risen serfs, the rebellious vassals of the Siegneur de Bellecour.

For time has sped and has much altered in the speeding. Four years have gone by since the night on which the

lacerated Caron la Boulaye was smuggled out of Bellecour in Robespierre's berline and in that four years

much of the things that were prophesied have come to pass aye, and much more besides that was undreamt

of at the outset by the revolutionaries. A gruesome engine that they facetiously called the National Razor

invented and designed some years ago by one Dr. Guillotin is but an item in the changes that have been, yet

an item that in its way has become a very factor. It stands not overhigh, yet the shadow of it has fallen

athwart the whole length and breadth of France, and in that shadow the tyrants have trembled, shaken to the

very souls of them by the rude hand of fear; in that shadow the spurned and downtrodden children of the soil

have taken heart of grace. The bonds of servile cowardice that for centuries had trammelled them have been

shaken off like cobwebs, and they that were as sheep are now become the wolves that prey on those that

There is, in the whole of France, no corner so remote but that, sooner or later, this great upheaval has

penetrated to it. Louis XVI. or Louis Capet, as he is now more generally spoken of has been arraigned,

condemned and executed. The aristocrats are in full emigratory flight across the frontiers those that have

not been rent by the vassals they had brought to bay, the people they had outraged. The Lilies of France lie

trampled under foot in the shambles they have made of that fair land, whilst overhead the tricolour that

symbol of the new trinity, Liberty, Equality, Fraternity is flaunted in the breeze.

A few of the more proud and obstinate so proud and obstinate as to find it a thing incredible that the order

should indeed change and the old regime pass away still remain, and by their vain endeavours to lord it in

their castles provoke such scenes as that enacted at Bellecour in February of '93 (by the style of slaves) or

Pluviose of the year One of the French Republic, as it shall presently come to be known in the annals of the

Bellecour, the most arrogant of arrogants, had stood firm, and desperately contrived through all these months

of revolution to maintain his dominion in his corner of Picardy. But even he was beginning to realise that the

end was at hand, and he made his preparations to emigrate. Too proud, however, to permit his emigration to

savour of a flight, he carried the leisureliness of his going to dangerous extremes. And now, on the eve of

departure, he must needs pause to give a fete at once of farewell and in honour of his daughter's betrothal to

the Vicomte Anatole d'Ombreval. This very betrothal at so unpropitious a season was partly no more than

contrived by the Marquis that he might mark his ignoring and his serene contempt of the upheaval and the

All that was left of the noblesse in Picardy had flocked that day to the Chateau de Bellecour, and the

company there assembled numbered perhaps some thirty gallants and some twenty ladies. A banquet there

had been, which in the main was a gloomy function, for the King's death was too recent a matter to be utterly

lost sight of. Later, however, as the generous supply of wine did its work and so far thawed the ice of

apprehension that bound their souls as to dispose them to enjoy, at least, the present hour in forgetfulness,

there was a better humour in the air. This developed, and so far indeed did it go that in the evening a Pavane

was suggested, and, the musicians being found, it was held in the great salon of the Chateau.

It was then that the first alarm had penetrated to their midst. It had found them a recklessly merry crew, good

to behold in their silks and satins, powder and patches, gold lace and red heels, moving with waving fans, or

hand on sword, and laced beaver under elbow, through the stately figures of the gavotte.

Scared, whitefaced lackeys had brought the news, dashing wildly in upon that courtly assembly. The

Some of his sudden rage the Marquis vented by striking the servants' spokesman in the face.

"Do, fool?" returned Bellecour. "Why, close the gates and bid them return home as they value their lives. For

Still was there that same big talk of hanging men. Still did it seem that the Marquis of Bellecour accounted

himself the same lord of life and death that he and his forbears had been for generations. But there were

others who thought differently. The music had ceased abruptly, and a little knot of gentlemen now gathered

about the host, and urged him to take some measures of precaution. In particular they desired to ensure the

safety of the ladies who were being thrown into a great state of alarm, so that of some of these were the

screams that were heard in that night of terror. Bellecour's temper was fast gaining, and as he lost control of

"Mesdames," he cried rudely, "this screeching will profit us nothing. Even if we must die, let us die

A dozen men raised their voices angrily against him in defence of the women he had slighted. But he waved

"Is this an hour in which to fall aquarrelling among ourselves?" he exclaimed. "Or do you think it one in

which a man can stop to choose his words? Sangdieu! That screaming is a more serious matter than at first

may seem. If these rebellious dogs should chance to hear it, it will be but so much encouragement to them. A

fearless front, a cold contempt, are weapons unrivalled if you would prevail against these mutinous cravens."

But his guests were insistent that something more than fearless fronts and cold contempts should be set up as

barriers between themselves and the advancing peasantry. And in the end Bellecour impatiently quitted the

room to give orders for the barricading of the gates and the defending of the Chateau, leaving behind him in

>From the windows the peasantry could now be seen, by the light of their torches, marching up the long

avenue that fronted the Chateau, and headed by a single drum on which the bearer did no more than beat the

step. They were a fierce, unkempt band, rudely armed some with scythes, some with sickles, some with

hedgeknives, and some with hangers; whilst here and there was one who carried a gun, and perhaps a

bayonet as well. Nor were there men only in the rebellious ranks. There were an almost equal number of

women in crimson caps, their bosoms bare, their heads dishevelled, their garments filthy and in rags for the

As they swung along to the rhythmical thud of the drum, their voices were raised in a fearful chorus that must

have made one think of the choirs of hell, and the song they sang was the song of Rouget de l'Isle, which all

"Aux armes, citovens! Formez vos bataillons. Allons, marchons! Qu'un sang inpur Abreuve nos sillons!"

Ever swelling as they drew nearer came the sound of that terrible hymn to the ears of the elegant, bejewelled,

bepowdered company in the Chateau. The gates were reached and found barred. An angry roar went up to

Heaven, followed by a hail of blows upon the stout, ironbound oak, and an imperious call to open.

In the courtyard below the Marquis had posted the handful of servants that remained faithful for reasons

that Heaven alone may discern to the fortunes of the house. He had armed them with carbines and supplied

them with ammunition. He had left them orders to hold off the mob from the outer gates as long as possible;

but should these be carried, they were to fall back into the Chateau itself, and make fast the doors.

Meanwhile, he was haranguing the gentlemen some thirty of them, as we have seen in the salon and

His instances were met with a certain coldness, which at last was given expression by the most elegant

"My dear Marquis," protested the young man, his habitually supercilious mouth looking even more

supercilious than usual as he now spoke, "I beg that you will consider what you are proposing. We are your

guests, we others, and you ask us to defend your gates against your own people for you! Surely, surely, sir,

your first duty should have been to have ensured our safety against such mutinies on the part of the rabble of

The Seigneur angrily stamped his foot. In his choler he was within an ace of striking Ombreval, and might

have done so had not the broadminded and everreasonable old Des Cadoux interposed at that moment to

make clear to the Marquis's guests a situation than which nothing could have been clearer. He put it to them

that the times were changed, and that France was no longer what France had been; that allowances must be

made for M. de Bellecour, who was in no better case than any other gentleman in that unhappy country! and

finally, that either they must look to arming and defending themselves or they must say their prayers and

"For ourselves," he concluded calmly, tapping his gold snuffbox and holding it out to Bellecour, for all the

world with the air of one who was discussing the latest fashion in wigs, "I can understand your repugnance at

coming to blows with this obscene canaille. It is doing them an honour of which they are not worthy. But we

have these ladies to think of, Messieurs, and " he paused to apply the rappee to his nostrils "and we must

exert ourselves to save them, however disagreeable the course we may be compelled to pursue. Messieurs, I

His words were not without effect; they kindled chivalry in hearts that, after all, were nothing if not prone to

chivalry according to their own lights and presently something very near enthusiasm prevailed. But the

"To ask me to fight this scum!" he ejaculated in horror "Pardi! It is too much. Ask me to beat them off with a

"Nothing could delight us more, Vicomte, than to see you beat them off with a whip," Des Cadoux assured

him. "Arm yourself with a whip, by all means, my friend, and let us witness the prodigies you can perform

"See what valour inflames the Vicomte, Suzanne," sneered a handsome woman into Mademoiselle's ear. With

Mademoiselle gave no outward sign of the deep wound her pride was receiving. The girl of nineteen, who

had scorned the young secretarylover in the park of Bellecour that morning four years ago, was developed

"It would be beneath the dignity of his station to soil his hands in such a conflict as my father has suggested,"

"I wonder would it be beneath the dignity of his courage," mused the same caustic friend. "But surely not, for

"Madame!" exclaimed Suzanne, her cheeks reddening; for as of old, and like her father, she was quickly

moved to anger. "Will it please you to remember that M. d'Ombreval is my affianced husband?"

"True," confessed the lady, no whit abashed. "But had I not been told so I had accounted him your rejected

suitor, who, brokenhearted, gives no thought either to his own life or to yours."

In a pet, Mademoiselle gave her shoulder to the speaker and turned away. In spite of the words with which

she had defended him, Suzanne was disappointed in her betrothed, and yet, in a way, she understood his

bearing to be the natural fruit of that indomitable pride of which she had observed the outward signs, and for

which, indeed as much as for the beauty of his person, she had consented to become his wife. After all, it was

the outward man she knew. The marriage had been arranged, and this was but their third meeting, whilst

never for an instant had they been alone together. By her mother she had been educated up to the idea that it

was eminently desirable she should become the Vicomtesse d'Ombreval. At first she had endured dismay at

the fact that she had never beheld the Vicomte, and because she imagined that he would be, most probably,

some elderly roue, as did so often fall to the lot of maidens in her station. But upon finding him so very

handsome to behold, so very noble of bearing, so lofty and disdainful that as he walked he seemed to spurn

the very earth, she fell enamoured of him out of very relief, as well as because he was the most superb

And now that she had caught a glimpse of the soul that dwelt beneath that mass of outward perfections it had

cost her a pang of disappointment, and the poisonous reflection cast upon his courage by that sardonic lady

But the time was too full of other trouble to permit her to indulge her thoughts overlong upon such a matter.

A volley of musketry from below came to warn them of the happenings there. The air was charged with the

hideous howls of the besieging mob, and presently there was a cry from one of the ladies, as a sudden glare of

"They have fired the stables," he answered, through set teeth. "I suppose they need light to guide them in their

He strode to the glass doors opening to the balcony the same balcony from which four years ago his guests

had watched the flogging of La Boulaye and, opening them, he passed out. His appearance was greeted by

a storm of execration. A sudden shot rang out, and the bullet, striking the wall immediately above him,

brought down a shower of plaster on his head. It had been fired by a demoniac who sat astride the great gates

waving his discharged carbine and yelling such ordures of speech as it had never been the most noble

Marquis's lot to have stood listening to. Bellecour never flinched. As calmly as if nothing had happened, he

Their guns had been discharged, but one of them, who had now completed his reloading, levelled the carbine

and fired. The figure on the gates seemed to leap up from his sitting posture, and then with a scream he went

The fired stables were burning gaily by now, and the cheeriest bonfire man could have desired on a dark

The Marquis on the balcony was taking stock of his defences and making rapid calculations in his mind. He

saw no reason why, so well protected by those stout oaken gates they should not if they were but resolute

eventually beat back the mob. And then, even as his courage was rising at the thought, a deafening explosion

seemed to shake the entire Chateau, and the gates their sole buckler, upon whose shelter he had been so

confidently building crashed open, half blown away by the gunpowder keg that had been fired against it.

He had a fleeting glimpse of a stream of black fiends pouring through the dark gap and dashing with

deafening yells into the crimson light of the courtyard. He saw his little handful of servants retreat

precipitately within the Chateau. He heard the clang of the doors that were swung to just as the foremost of

the rabble reached the threshold With all this clearly stamped upon his mind, he turned, and springing into

And to the stairs they went. The extremity was now too great for argument. They dared not so much as look

at their womenfolk, lest they should be unmanned by the sight of those huddled creatures their finery but

serving to render them the more pitiable in their sickly affright. In a body the whole thirty of them swept from

the room, and with Bellecour at their head and Ombreval somewhere in the rearmost rank, they made their

Here, armed with their swords and a brace of pistols to each man, whilst for a few the Marquis had even

found carbines, they waited, with faces set and lips tight pressed for the end that they knew approached.

Nor was their waiting long. As the peasants had blown down the gates so now did they blow down the doors

of the Chateau, and in the explosion three of Bellecour's servants who had stood too near were killed.

Over the threshold they swarmed into the dark gulf of the great hall to the foot of the staircase. But here they

were at a disadvantage. The light of the burning stables, shining through the open doorway, revealed them to

the defenders, whilst they themselves looked up into the dark. There was a sudden cracking of pistols and a

few louder reports from the guns, and the mob fled, screaming, back into the yard, leaving a score of dead

Old M. des Cadoux laughed in the dark, as with his sword hanging rom his wrist he tapped his snuffbox.

"Ma foi," said he to his neighbour, "they are discovering that it is not to be the triumphal march they had

But the respite was brief. In a moment they saw the glare increase at the door, and presently a halfdozen of

the rabble entered with torches, followed by some scores of their comrades. They paused at sight of that

company ranged upon the stairs, as well they might, for a more incongruous sight could scarcely be

imagined. Across the bodies of the slain, and revealed by the lifting powder smoke, stood that little band of

thirty men, a blaze of gay colours, a sheen of silken hose, their wigs curled and powdered, their costly ruffles

scintillant with jewels; calm, and supercilious, mocking to a man. There was a momentary gasp of awe, and

then the spell was broken by the aristocrats themselves. A pistol spoke, and a volley followed. In the hall

some stumbled forward, some hurtled backward, and some sank down in nerveless heaps. But those that

remained did not again retreat. Reinforced by others, that crowded in behind, they charged boldly up the

stairs, headed by a ragged, red capped giant named Souvestre a man whom the Marquis had once

The sight of him was a revelation to Bellecour. This assault was Souvestre's work; the fellow had been

inciting the people of Bellecour for the past twelve months, long indeed before the outbreak of the revolution

proper, and at last he had roused them to the pitch of accompanying him upon his errand of tardy but

With a growl the Marquis raised his pistol. But Souvestre saw the movement, and with a laugh he did the

like. Simultaneously there were two reports, and Bellecour's arm fell shattered to his side. Souvestre

continued to advance, his smoking pistol in one hand and brandishing a huge sabre with the other. Behind

him, howling and roaring like the beasts of prey they were become, surged the tenantry of Bellecour to pay

"Here," said Des Cadoux, with a grimace, "endeth the chapter of our lives. I wonder, do they keep rappee in

heaven?" He snapped down the lid of his gold snuffbox that faithful companion and consoler of so many

years and cast it viciously at the head of one of the oncoming peasants. Then tossing back the lace from his

wrist he brought his sword into guard and turned aside a murderous stroke which an assailant aimed at him.

"Animal," he snapped viciously, as he set to work, "it is the first time that my chaste blade has been crossed

with such dirty steel as yours. I hope, for the honour of Cadoux, that it may not be quite the last."

Up, and ever up, swept that murderous tide. The half of those that had held the stairs lay weltering upon them

as if in a last attempt to barricade with their bodies what they could no longer defend with their hands. A bare

halfscore remained standing, and amongst these that gallant old Cadoux, who had by now accounted for a,

halfdozen sansculottes, and was hence in high glee, a man rejuvenesced. His sallies grew livelier and more

barbed as the deathtide rose higher about him. His one regret was that he had been so hasty in casting his

snuff box from him, for he was missing its familiar stimulus. At his side the Marquis was fighting

desperately, fencing with his left arm, and in the hot excitement seeming oblivious of the pain his broken

"It is ended, old friend," he groaned at last, to Des Cadoux. "I am losing strength, and I shall be done for in a

Des Cadoux felt his old eyes grow moist, and the odd, fierce mirth that seemed to have hitherto infected him

went out like a candle that is snuffed. But suddenly before he could make any answer, a new and unexpected

sound, which dominated the din of combat, and seemed to cause all assailants and defenders alike to

It was the roll of the drum. Not the mere thudding that had beaten the step for the mob, but the steady and

"What is it? Who comes?" were the questions that men asked one another, as both aristocrats and sansculottes

paused in their bloody labours. It was close at hand. So close at hand that they could discern the tramp of

marching feet. In the infernal din of that fight upon the stairs they had not caught the sound of this approach

until now that the newcomers whoever they might be were at the very gates of Bellecour.

>From the mob in the yard there came a sudden outcry. Men sprang to the door of the Chateau and shouted to

And in response to it the assailants turned tail, and dashed down the stairs, overleaping the dead bodies that

were piled upon them, and many a man slipping in that shambles and ending the descent on his back. Out into

the courtyard they swept: leaving that handful of gentlemen, their fine clothes disordered, splashed with

blood and grimed with powder, to question one another touching this portent, this miracle that seemed

It was, after all, no miracle, unless the very timely arrival upon the scene of a regiment of the line might be

accepted in the light of Heavendirected. As a matter of fact, a rumour of the assault that was to be made that

night upon the Chateau de Bellecour had travelled as far as Amiens, and there, that evening, it had reached

the ears of a certain Commissioner of the National Convention, who was accompanying this regiment to the

Now it so happened that this Commissioner had meditated making a descent upon the Chateau on his own

account, and he was not minded that any peasantry should forestall or baulk him in the business which he

proposed to carry out there. Accordingly, he issued certain orders to the commandant, from which it resulted

that a company, two hundred strong, was immediately despatched to Bellecour, to either defend or rescue it

This was the company that had reached Bellecour in the eleventh hour, to claim the attention of the assailants.

But the peasants, as we have seen, were by no means disposed to submit to interference, and this they

signified by the menacing front they showed the military, abandoning their attack upon the Chateau until they

should be clear concerning the intentions of the newcomers. Of these intentions the Captain did not leave

them long in doubt. A brisk word of command brought his men into a bristling line of attack, which in itself

"Citizens" cried the officer, stepping forward, "in the name of the French Republic I charge you to withdraw

"Citizencaptain,"answered the giant Souvestre, constituting himself the spokesman of his fellows, "we

demand to know by what right you interfere with honest patriots of France in the act of ridding it of some of

The officer stared at his interlocutor, amazed by the tone of the man as much as by the sudden growls that

"I proclaimed my right when I issued my charge in the name of the Republic," he answered shortly.

"We are the Republic," Souvestre retorted, with a wave of the hand towards the ferocious crowd of men and

women behind him. "We are the Nation the sacred people of France. In our own name, Citizensoldier, we

Here lay the basis of an argument into which, however, the Captain, being neither politician nor dialectician,

"Citizencaptain, this is an outrage," screamed a voice in the mob. "If blood is shed, upon your own head be

"To me, my children,"cried Souvestre, brandishing his sabre, and seeking to encourage his followers. "Down

with these traitors who dishonour the uniform of France! Death to the bluecoats!"

He leapt forward towards the military, and with a sudden roar his followers, a full hundred strong sprang after

"Fire!" commanded the Captain, and from the front line of his company fifty sheets of flame flashed from

The mob paused; for a second it wavered; then before the smoke had lifted it broke, and shrieking in terror, it

fled for cover, leaving the valorous Souvestre alone, to revile them for a swarm of cowardly rats.

The Captain put his hands to his sides and laughed till the tears coursed down his cheeks. Checking his mirth

"Hi! My friend the patriot! Are you still of the same mind or will you withdraw your people?"

"We will not withdraw," answered the giant sullenly. "You dare not fire upon free citizens of the French

"Dare I not? Do you delude yourself with that, nor think that because this time I fired over your heads I dare

not fire into your ranks. I give you my word that if I have to command my men to fire a second time it shall

not be mere makebelieve, and I also give you my word that if at the end of a minute I have not your reply

and you are not moving out of this every rogue of you shall have a very bitter knowledge of how much I

Souvestre was headstrong and angry. But what can one man, however headstrong and however angry, do

against two hundred, when his own followers refuse to support him. The valour of the peasants was distinctly

of that quality whose better part is discretion. The thunder of that fusillade had been enough to shatter their

nerve, and to Souvestre's exhortations that they should become martyrs in the noble cause, of the people

against tyranny, in whatsoever guise it came, they answered with the unanswerable logic of caution.

The end was that a very few moments later saw them in full retreat, leaving the military in sole and

The officer's first thought was for the blazing stables, and he at once ordered a detachment of his company to

set about quenching the fire, a matter in which they succeeded after some two hours of arduous labour.

Meanwhile, leaving the main body bivouacked in the courtyard, he entered the Chateau with a score of men,

and came upon the ten gentlemen still standing in the shambles that the grand staircase presented. With the

Marquis de Bellecour the Captain had a brief and not over courteous interview. He informed the nobleman

that he was acting under the orders of a Commissioner, who had heard at Amiens, that evening, of the attack

that was to be made upon Bellecour. Not unnaturally the Marquis was mistrustful of the ends which that

Commissioner, whoever he might be, looked to serve by so unusual an act. Far better did it sort with the

methods of the National Convention and its members to leave the butchering of aristocrats to take its course.

He sought information at the Captain's hands, but the officer was reticent to the point of curtness, and so,

their anxiety but little relieved, since it might seem that they had but escaped from Scylla to be engulfed in

Charbydis, the aristocrats at Bellecour spent the night in odious suspense. Those that were tending the

wounded had perhaps the best of it, since thus their minds were occupied and saved the torture of speculation.

The proportion of slain was mercifully small: of twenty that had fallen it was found that but six were dead,

the others being more or less severely hurt. Conspicuous among the men that remained, and perhaps the

bravest of them all was old Des Cadoux. He had recovered his snuffbox, than which there seemed to be

nothing of greater importance in the world, and he moved from group to group with here a jest and there a

word of encouragement, as seemed best suited to those he addressed. Of the women, Mademoiselle de

Bellecour and her sharp tongued mother, showed certainly the most undaunted fronts.

Suzanne had not seen her betrothed since the fight upon the stairs. But she was told that he was unhurt, and

It was an hour or so after sunrise when he sought her out, and they stood in conversation together a very

jaded pair looking down from one of the windows upon the stalwart bluecoats that were bivouacked in the

Suddenly on the still morning air came the sound of hoofbeats, and as they looked they espied a man in a

"See?" exclaimed Ombreval; "yonder at last comes the great man we are awaiting the Commissioner of that

rabble they call the National Convention. Now we shall know what fate is reserved for us."

"It is the fashion to send people of our station to Paris," he replied, "to make a mock of us with an affair they

"Merciful?" he mocked. "Ma foi, a ravenous tiger may be merciful before one of these. Had your father been

wise he had ordered the few of us that remained to charge those soldiers when they entered, and to have met

our end upon their bayonets. That would have been a merciful fate compared with the mercy of this socalled

It seemed to be his way to find fault, and that warp in his character rendered him now as heroic in words

"Unless you can conceive thoughts of a pleasanter complexion," she said, "I should prefer your silence, M.

He laughed in his disdainful way for he disdained all things, excepting his own person and safety but

In the courtyard the horseman was now dismounting, and a moment or two later they heard the fall of feet,

"The Citizendeputy La Boulaye, Commissioner of the National Convention to the army of General

"This," mocked Ombreval, to whom the name meant nothing, "is the representative of a Government of strict

equality, and he is announced with as much pomp as was ever an ambassador of his murdered Majesty's."

Then a something out of the common in the attitude of his companions arrested his attention. Mademoiselle

was staring with eyes full of the most ineffable amazement, her lips parted, and her cheeks whiter than the

sleepless night had painted them. The Marquis was scowling in a surprise that seemed no whit less than his

daughter's, his head thrust forward, and his jaw fallen. The Vicomte, too, though in a milder degree, offered a

countenance that was eloquent with bewilderment. From this silent group Ombreval turned his tired eyes to

the door and took stock of the two men that had entered. One of these was Captain Juste, the officer in

command of the military; the other was a tall man, with a pale face, an aquiline nose, a firm jaw, and eyes

that were very stern either of habit or because they now rested upon the man who four years ago had used

He stood a moment in the doorway as if enjoying the amazement which had been sown by his coming. There

was no mistaking him. It was the same La Boulaye of four years ago, and yet it was not quite the same. The

face had lost its boyishness, and the strenuous life he had lived had scored it with lines that gave him the

semblance of a greater age than was his. The old, poetic melancholy that had dwelt in the secretary's

countenance was now changed to strength and firmness. Although little known as yet to the world at large,

the great ones of the Revolution held him in high esteem, and looked upon him as a power to be reckoned

with in the near future. Of Robespierre who, it was said, had discovered him and brought him to Paris he

was the protege and more than friend, a protection and friendship this which in '93 made any man almost

He was dressed in a black ridingsuit, relieved only by the white neckcloth and the tricolour sash of office

about his waist. He removed his cocked hat, beneath which the hair was tied in a club with the same

Slowly he advanced into the salon, and his sombre eyes passed from the Marquis to Mademoiselle. As they

rested upon her some of the sternness seemed to fade from their glance. He found in her a change almost as

great as that which she had found in him. The lighthearted, laughing girl of nineteen, who had scorned his

proffered love when he had wooed her that April morning to such disastrous purpose, was now ripened into a

stately woman of threeandtwenty. He had thought his boyish passion dead and buried, and often in the

years that were gone had he smiled softly to himself at the memory of his ardour, as we smile at the memory

of our youthful follies. Yet now, upon beholding her again, so wondrously transformed, so tall and straight,

and so superbly beautiful, he experienced an odd thrill and a weakening of the stern purpose that had brought

Then his glance moved on. A moment it rested on the supercilious, highbred countenance of the Vicomte

d'Ombreval, standing with so proprietary an air beside her, then it passed to the kindly old face of Des

Cadoux, and he recalled how this gentleman had sought to stay the flogging of him. An instant it hovered on

the Marquis, who haggard of face and with his arm in a sling was observing him with an expression in

which scorn and wonder were striving for the mastery; it seemed to shun the gaze of the palefaced Vicomte,

whose tutor he had been in the old days of his secretaryship, and full and stern it returned at last to settle upon

"Citizen Bellecour," he said, and his voice, like his face, seemed to have changed since last the Marquis had

heard it, and to have grown more deep and metallic, "you may marvel, now that you behold the

Commissioner who sent a company of soldiers to rescue you and your Chateau from the hands of the mob

last night, what purpose I sought to serve by extending to you a protection which none of your order merits,

"The times may have wrought sad and overwhelming changes," answered the Marquis, with cold contempt,

"but it has not yet so utterly abased us that we bring ourselves to speculate upon the purposes of the rabble."

"Indeed, I see how little you have changed!" he answered bitterly. "You are of those that will not learn,

Citizen. The fault lies here," he added, tapping his head, "and it will remain until we remove the ones with the

other. But now for the business that brings me," he proceeded, more briskly. "Four years ago, Citizen

Bellecour, you laid your whip across my face in the woods out yonder, and when I spoke of seeking

satisfaction action you threatened me with your grooms. I will not speak of your other brutalities on that same

"Be brief, sir,"cried the Marquis offensively. "Since you have the force to compel us to listen to you, let me

beg that you will at least display the generosity of detaining us no longer than you need."

"I will be as brief as it lies within the possibility of words," answered Caron coldly. "I am come, Citizen

Bellecour, to demand of you today the satisfaction which four years ago you refused me."

"Through the person of your son, the Vicomte, as I asked for it four years ago,"said Caron. "You are am old

"I am yet young enough to cut you into ribbons, you dog, if I were minded to dishonour myself by meeting

you." And turning to Ombreval for sympathy, he vented a low laugh of contemptuous wonder.

"Insolence!" sneered Ombreval sympathetically, whilst Mademoiselle stood looking on with cheeks that were

growing paler, for that this event would end badly for either her father or her brother she never doubted.

"Citizen Bellecour,"said Caron, still very coldly, "you have heard what I propose, as have you also,

"Silence, Armand!" his father commanded, laying a hand upon his sleeve. "Understand me, citizendeputy,

or citizencommissioner, or citizenblackguard or whatever you call your vile self, you are come on a

fruitless journey to Bellecour. Neither I nor my son is so lost to the duty which we owe our rank as to so

much as dream of acceding to your preposterous request. I think, sir, that you had been better advised to have

left the mob to its work last night, if you but restrained it for this purpose."

"Is that your last word?" asked La Boulaye, still calmly weathering that storm of insults.

"There are more ways than one of taking satisfaction for that affront, Citizen Bellecour," rejoined La

Boulaye, "and if the course which I now pursue should prove more distasteful to you than that which I last

suggested, the blame of it must rest with you." He turned to the bluecoat at the door. "Citizensoldier, my

There was a sudden movement among the aristocrats a horrified recoiling and even Bellecour was shaken

"Insolent cur!" exclaimed Ombreval with withering scorn; "to what lengths is presumption driving you?"

He received the whip from the hands of the soldier and he now advanced towards Bellecour, unwinding the

"Shall not?" echoed La Boulaye, his lips curling. "You had best stand aside you that are steeped in musk

and fierceness." And before the stern and threatening contempt of La Boulaye's glance the young nobleman

fell back. But his place was taken by the Vicomte de Bellecour, who advanced to confront Caron.

"Monsieur la Boulaye,"he announced, "I am ready and willing to meet you." And considering the grim

alternative with which the Republicans had threatened him, the old Marquis had not the courage to interfere

"Ah!" It was an exclamation of satisfaction from the Commissioner. "I imagined that you would change your

Very formally La Boulaye bowed and left the room accompanied by the officer and followed by the soldier.

"Mon Dieu!" gasped the Marquise, fanning herself as the door closed after the Republicans. "Open me a

window or I shall stifle! How the place reeks with them. I am a calm woman, Messieurs, but, on my honour,

had he addressed any of you by his odious title of 'citizen' again, I swear that I had struck him with my own

Her eyes travelled to her brother's pale face and weakly frame, and her glance was such a glance as we bend

upon the beloved dead, for in him she saw one who was going inevitably to his death.

Along the northern side of the Chateau ran a terrace bordered by a red sandstone balustrade, and below this

the Italian garden, so called perhaps in consequence of the oddly clipped boxtrees, its only feature that

suggested Italy. At the far end of this garden there was a strip of even turf that might have been designed for a

fencing ground, and which Caron knew of old. Thither he led Captain Juste, and there in the pale sunshine of

But the minutes went by and still they waitedfive, ten, fifteen minutes elapsed, yet no one came. Juste was

on the point of returning within to seek the reason of this delay when steps sounded on the terrace above. But

they were accompanied by the rustle of a gown, and presently it was Mademoiselle who appeared before

them. The two men eyed her with astonishment, which in the case of La Boulaye, was tempered by another

"Monsieur la Boulaye," said she, her glance wandering towards the Captain, "may I speak with you alone?"

"Your servant, Citoyenne," said he, removing his cocked hat. "Juste, will you give us leave?"

"You will find me on the terrace when you want me, Citizendeputy," answered the officer, and saluting, he

For a moment or two after he was gone Suzanne and Caron stood confronting each other in silence. She

seemed smitten with a sudden awkwardness, and she looked away from him what time he waited, hat in hand,

"And is the noblesse of France fallen so low that it sends its women to intercede for the lives of its men? But,

Her cheeks reddened. His insult to her class acted upon her as a spur and overcame the irresoluteness that

"To insult the fallen, sir, is worthy of the new regime, whose representative you are, Enfine! We must take it,

I suppose, as we take everything else in these disordered times with a bent head and a meek submission."

"From the little that I have seen, Citoyenne," he answered, very coldly, roused in his turn, "it rather seems

"Monsieur," she cried, and her eyes now met his in fearless anger, "if you persist in these gratuitous insults I

He laughed in rude amusement, and put on his hat. The spell that for a moment her beauty had cast over him

when first she had appeared had been attenuating. It now broke suddenly, and as he covered himself his

"Is this interview of my seeking?" he asked. "It is your brother I am awaiting. Name of a name, Citoyenne, do

you think my patience inexhaustible? The cidevant Vicomte promised to attend me here. It was the boast of

your order that whatever sins you might be guilty of you never broke your word. Have you lost even that

virtue, which served you as a cloak for untold vices? And is your brother fled into the woods whilst you, his

sister, come here to intercede with me for his wretched life? Pah! In the old days you aroused my hatred by

your tyrannies and your injustices; today you weary and disgust me by your ineffable cowardices, from that

"Monsieur,"she began But he was not yet done. His cheeks were flushed with a reflection of the heart within.

"Citoyenne, I have a debt to discharge, and I will discharge it in full. Intercessions are vain with me. I cannot

forget. Send me your brother within ten minutes to meet me here, man to man, and he shall have all of you

shall have the chance that lies in such an encounter. But woe unto every man at Bellecour if he should fail

"You speak of a debt that you must discharge," said she, with no whit less heat than he had exhibited. "You

refer to the debt of vengeance which you look to discharge by murdering that boy, my brother. But do you

"Aye," she returned wistfully, "you are like the rest. You have a long memory for injuries, but a short one for

benefits. Had it not been for me, Monsieur, you would not be here now to demand this that you call

"No," he broke in. "I well remember how you sought to stay them when they were flogging me in the yard

there. But you came too late. You might have come before, for from the balcony above you had been

She flashed him a searching glance, as though she sought to read his thoughts, and to ascertain whether he

"Cast out for dead?" she echoed. "And by whose contrivance? By mine, M. la Boulaye. When they were

cutting you down they discovered that you were not dead, and but that I bribed the men to keep it secret and

carry you to Duhamel's house, they had certainly informed my father and you would have been finished off."

His eyes opened wide now, and into them there came a troubled look the look of one who is endeavouring

"Ma foi," he muttered. "It seems to come to me as if I had heard something of the sort in a dream. It was "

He paused, and his brows were knit a moment. Then he looked up suddenly, and gradually his face cleared.

"Why, yes I have it!" he exclaimed. "It was in Duhamel's house. While I was lying half unconscious on the

couch I heard one of the men telling Duhamel that you had paid them to carry me there and to keep a secret."

"Not forgotten,"he answered, "for it was never really there to be remembered. That I had heard such words

had more than once occurred to me, but I have always looked upon it as the recollection of something that I

had dreamt. I had never looked upon it as a thing that had had a real happening."

She left the question unfinished, and held out her hands to him in a gesture of supplication. His face paled

slightly and overclouded. Her influence, against which so long he had steeled himself, reinforced by the debt

in which she had shown him that he stood towards her, was prevailing with him despite himself. Stirred

suddenly out of the coldness that he had hitherto assumed, he caught the outstretched hands and drew her a

step nearer. That was his undoing. Strong man though he unquestionably was, like many another strong man

his strength seemed to fall from him at a woman's touch. He had led so austere and stern a life during the past

four years; of women he had but had the most passing of glances, and intercourse with none save an old

female who acted as his housekeeper in Paris. And here was a woman who was not only beautiful, but the

woman who years ago had embodied all his notions of what was most perfect in womanhood; the woman

who ever since, and despite all that was past, had reigned in his heart and mind almost in spite of himself,

The touch of her hand now, the closeness of her presence, the faint perfume that reached him from her, and

that was to him as a symbol of her inherent sweetness, the large blue eyes meeting his in expectation, and the

imploring halfpout of her lips, were all seductions against which he had not been human had he prevailed.

Very white in the intensity of the longquiescent passion she had resuscitated, he cried:

The four years that were gone seemed suddenly to have slipped away. It was as if they stood again by the

brook in the park on that April morn when first he had dared to word his presumptuous love. Even the

vocabulary of the Republic was forgotten, and the interdicted title of "Mademoiselle" fell naturally from his

"Say that you can be generous,"she implored him softly. "Say that you prefer the debt you owe to the injury

"You do not know the sacrifice you ask," he exclaimed still fighting with himself. "I have waited four years

"He is my brother," she whispered, in so wonderful a tone that words which of themselves may have seemed

"Soit!" he consented. "For your sake, Mademoiselle, and in payment of the debt I owe you, I will go as I

came. I shall not see the Citizenmarquis again. But do you tell him from me that if he sets any value on his

life, he had best shake the dust of France from his feet. Too long already has he tarried, and at any moment

those may arrive who will make him emigrate not only out of France but out of the world altogether. Besides,

the peasantry that has risen once may rise again, and I shall not be here to protect him from its violence. Tell

"Monsieur, I am grateful very, very deeply grateful. I can say no more. May Heaven reward you. I shall

"Adieu, Mademoiselle,"he said at last. Then, very slowly as if so that realising his intent she might frustrate

it were she so minded he raised her right hand. It was not withdrawn, and so he bent low, and pressed his

"God guard you, Mademoiselle,"he said at last, and if they were strange words for a Republican and a

Deputy, it must be remembered that his bearing during the past few moments had been singularly unlike a

He released her hand, and stepping back, doffed his hat. With a final inclination of the head, she turned and

At a distance La Boulaye followed, so lost in thought that he did not observe Captain Juste until the fellow's

"You have been long enough, Citizendeputy," was the soldier's greeting. "I take it there is to be no duel."

"I make you my compliments upon the acuteness of your perception," answered La Boulaye tartly. "You are

Juste's air was slightly mocking, and words of not overdelicate banter rose to his lips, to be instantly quelled

"Let your drums beat a rally, Citizencaptain,"he commanded briskly. "We leave Bellecour in ten minutes.".

And indeed, in less than that time the bluecoats were swinging briskly down the avenue. In the rear rode La

Boulaye, his cloak wrapped about him, his square chin buried in his neckcloth, and his mind deep in

>From a window of the Chateau the lady who was the cause of the young Revolutionist's mental absorption

watched the departing soldiers. On either side of her stood Ombreval and her father.

"My faith, little one," said Bellecour goodhumouredly. "I wonder what magic you have exercised to rid us

"Women have sometimes a power of which men know nothing," was her cryptic answer.

"I trust, Mademoiselle, that you did not " he stopped short. His thoughts were of a quality that defied polite

"I trust you remembered that you are to become the Vicomtesse d'Ombreval" he answered, constructing his

"I was chiefly mindful of the fact that I had my brother's life to save," said the girl, very coldly, her eye

resting upon her betrothed in a glance of so much contempt that it forced him into an abashed silence.

In her mind she was contrasting this supercilious, vacillating weakling with the stern, strong man who lode

yonder. A sigh fluttered across her lips. Had things but been different. Had Ombreval been the Revolutionist

and La Boulaye the Vicomte, how much better pleased might she not have been. But since it was not so, why

sigh? It was not as if she had loved this La Boulaye. How was that possible? Was he not of the canaille,

basely born, and a Revolutionist the enemy of her order in addition? It were a madness to even dream of

the possibility of such a thing, for Suzanne de Bellecour came of too proud a stock, and knew too well the

There had been friction between the National Convention and General Dumouriez, who, though a fine

soldier, was a remarkably indifferent Republican. The Convention had unjustly ordered the arrest of his

commissariat officers, PetitJean and Malus, and in other ways irritated a man whose patience was never of

On the eve, however, of war with Holland, the great ones in Paris had suddenly perceived their error, and had

sought despite the many enemies, from Marat downwards, that Dumouriez counted among their numbers

to conciliate a general whose services they found that they could not dispense with. This conciliation was the

business upon which the Deputy La Boulaye had been despatched to Antwerp, and as an ambassador he

proved signally successful, as much by virtue of the excellent terms he was empowered to offer as in

The great Republican General started upon his campaign in the Low Countries as fully satisfied as under the

circumstances he could hope to be. Malus and PetitJean were not only enlarged but reinstated, he was

promised abundant supplies of all descriptions, and he was assured that the Republic approved and endorsed

La Boulaye, his mission satisfactorily discharged, turned homewards once more, and with an escort of six

men and a corporal he swiftly retraced his steps through that blackened, warravaged country. They had slept

a night at Mons, and they were within a short three leagues of French soil when they chanced to ride towards

noon into the little hamlet of Boisvert. Probably they would have gone straight through without drawing rein,

but that, as they passed the Auberge de l'Aigle, La Boulaye espied upon the green fronting the wayside

The sight brought Caron to a sudden halt, and he sat his horse observing them and wondering how it chanced

that these men should find themselves so far from the army. Three of them showed signs of having been

recently wounded. One carried his arm in a sling, another limped painfully and by the aid of a stick, whilst

the head of the third was swathed in bandages. But most remarkable were they by virtue of their clothes. One

fellow he of the bandaged head wore a coat of yellow brocaded silk, which, in spite of a rent in the

shoulder, and sundry stains of wine and oil, was unmistakably of a comparative newness. Beneath this

appeared the nankeens and black leggings of a soldier. Another covered his greasy locks with a

threecornered hat, richly laced in gold. A third flaunted under his ragged blue coat a goldbroidered

waistcoat and a Brussels cravat. A valuable ring flashed from the grimy finger of a fourth, who, instead of the

military white nankeens, wore a pair of black silk breeches. There was one he of the injured arm

resplendent in a redingote of crimson velvet, whilst he of the limp supported himself upon a goldheaded

cane of ebony, which was in ludicrous discord with the tattered blue coat, the phrygian cap, and the toes that

They paused in their game to inspect, in their turn, the newcomers, and to La Boulaye it seemed that their

"A picturesque company on my life," he mused aloud. Then beckoned the one in the crimson coat.

The fellow hesitated a moment, then shuffled forward with a sullen air, and stood by Caron's stirrup.

"Yonder?" asked La Boulaye derisively, pointing with his whip to the "Eagle Inn."

"Convalescent? But those three braves yonder are something more than convalescent. They are as well as I

"Captain Charlot,"the fellow answered, with an impudent air, which clearly seemed to ask: "What have you

"Captain Charlot?" echoed La Boulaye, in astonishment, for the name was that of the sometime peasant of

Bellecour, who had since risen in life, and who, as an officer, had in a few months acquired a brilliant fame

"Is there any other Captain Charlot in the army of the Republic?" the fellow asked insolently.

"Is he invalided too?" inquired Caron, without heeding the soldier's offensiveness of manner.

"Why, so all the world knows. What then? The General sent Captain Charlot here to rest and be cured, giving

him charge of the invalided soldiers who came with him and of others who were already here."

"And of these,"cried La Boulaye, his amazement growing, "have none returned to Dumouriez?"

"How many of you are there?"he asked. And for all that the man began to mislike this questioning, he had not

the hardihood to refuse an answer to the stern tones of that stern man on horseback.

La Boulaye said nothing for a moment, then touching the fellow's sleeve with his whip.

"Ma foi," answered the man, shrugging his shoulders, "we were in rags. The commissariat was demoralised,

and supplies were not forthcoming. We had to take what we could find, or else go naked."

"Diable! Will your questions never come to an end, Citizen? Would you not be better advised in putting them

In the distance a cloud of dust might be perceived above the long, white road. The soldier espied it as La

"I am much at fault if he does not come yonder." And he pointed to the dustcloud.

"I think," said La Boulaye, turning to his men, "that we will drink a cup of wine at the 'Eagle Inn.' "

Mean though the place was, it was equipped with a stableyard, to which admittance was gained by a

portecochere on the right. Wheeling his horse, La Boulaye, without another word to the soldier he had been

The hostess, who came forward to receive them, was a tall, bony woman of very swarthy complexion, with

beady eyes and teeth prominent as a rat's. But if illfavoured, she seemed, at least, wellintentioned, in

addition to which the tricolour scarf of office round La Boulaye's waist was a thing that commanded respect

and servility, however much it might be the insignia of a Government of liberty, equality, and fraternity.

She bade the ostler care for their horses, and she brought them her best wine, seeking under an assumed

geniality to conceal the unrest born of her speculations as to what might happen did Captain Charlot return

Charlot did return. Scarce were they seated at their wine when the confused sounds that from the distance had

been swelling took more definite shape. The hostess looked uneasy as La Boulaye rose and went to the door

of the inn. Down the road marched now a numerous company from which to judge by their odd appearance

the players at bowls had been drawn. They numbered close upon threescore, and in the centre of them came

a great lumbering vehicle, which puzzled La Boulaye. He drew away from the door and posted himself at the

window, so that unobserved he might ascertain what was toward. Into the courtyard came that company,

pelemele, an odd mixture of rags and gauds, yet a very lusty party, vigorous of limb and loud of voice. With

them came the coach, and there was such a press about the gates that La Boulaye looked to see some of them

crushed to death. But with a few shouts and oaths and threats at one another they got through in safety, and

They were clamouring about its doors, and to La Boulaye it seemed that they were on the point of quarrelling

among themselves, some wanting to enter the coach and others seeking to restrain them, when through the

He barked out a sharp word of command, and they grew silent and still, testifying to a discipline which said

much for the strength of character of their captain. He was strangely altered, was this Tardivet, and his

appearance now was worthy of his followers. Under a gaudilylaced, threecornered hat his hair hung

dishevelled and unkempt, like wisps of straw. He wore a coat of flowered black silk, with a heavy gold

edging, and a very bright plumcoloured waistcoat showed above the broad tricolour scarf that sashed his

middle. His breeches were white (or had been white in origin), and disappeared into a pair of very lustrous

lacquered boots that rose high above his knees. A cavalry sabre of ordinary dimensions hung from a military

belt, and a pistolbutt, peeping from his sash, completed the astonishing motley of his appearance. For the

rest, he was the same tall and wellknit fellow; but there was more strength in his square chin, more

intelligence in the keen blue eyes, and, alas! more coarseness in the mouth, which bristled with a reddish

La Boulaye watched him with interest. He had become intimate with him in the old days in Paris, whither

Tardivet had gone, and where, fired by the wrongs he had suffered, he had been one of the apostles of the

Revolution. When the frontiers of France had been in danger Tardivet had taken up arms, and by the lustre

which he had shed upon the name of Captain Charlotas he was come to be called throughout the army he

had eclipsed the fame of Citizen Tardivet, the erstwhile prophet of liberty. Great changes these in the estate

of one who had been a simple peasant; but then the times were times of great changes. Was not Santerre, the

brewer, become a great general, and was not Robespierre, the obscure lawyer of Arras, by way of becoming a

dictator? Was it, therefore, wonderful that Charlot should have passed from peasant to preacher, from

A shrewd suspicion was being borne in upon La Boulaye's mind as he stood by that window, his men behind

him watching also, with no less intentness and some uneasiness for themselves for they misliked the look

In five seconds Charlot had restored order in the human chaos without. In five minutes there were but ten

men left in the yard. The others were gone at Charlot's bidding a bidding, couched in words that went to

"You will get back to your posts at once,"he had said. "Because we have made one rich capture is no reason

why you should neglect the opportunities of making others no less rich. You, Moulinet, with twenty men,

shall patrol the road to Charleroi, and get as near France as possible. You Boligny, station yourself in the

neighbourhood of Conde, with ten men, and guard the road from Valenciennes. You, Aigreville, spread your

twenty men from Conde to Tournay, and watch the frontiers closely. Make an inspection of any captures you

may take, and waste no time in bringing hither worthless ones. Now go. I will see that each man's share of

There were some shouts of "Vive la Republique!" some of "Vive le Captaine Charlot!" and so they poured

out of the yard, and left him to give a few hurried directions to the ten men that remained.

"Sad invalids these, as I live!" exclaimed La Boulaye over his shoulder to his followers. "Ha! There is my

The fellow with the bandaged head had approached Charlot and was tugging at his sleeve.

"Let be, you greasy rascal," the Captain snapped at him, to add: "What do you say? A Deputy? Where?" The

"Sacred name of a name!" growled Charlot, and, turning suddenly from the men to whom he had been issuing

directions, he sprang up the steps and entered the inn. As he crossed the threshold of the common room he

"I make you my compliments, Charlot," was Caron's greeting, "upon the vigorous health that appears to

Tardivet stood a moment within the doorway, staring at the Deputy. Then his brow cleared, and with a laugh,

"My good Caron!" he cried. "To meet you at Boisvert is a pleasure I had not looked for."

"Are you so very sure," asked La Boulaye sardonically, as he took the outstretched hand, "that it is a

"How could it be else, old friend? By St. Guillotine!" he added, clapping the Deputy on the back, "you shall

In some measure of wonder, La Boulaye permitted himself to be led up the crazy stairs to a most untidy room

above, which evidently did duty as the Captain's parlour. A heavy brass lamp, hanging from the ceiling, a few

untrustworthy chairs and a deal table, stained and unclean, were the only articles of furniture. But in almost

every corner there were untidy heaps of garments Of all sorts and conditions; strewn about the floor were

other articles of apparel, a few weapons, a saddle, and three or four boots; here an empty bottle, lying on its

side, yonder a couple of full ones by the hearth; an odd book or two and an infinity of playing cards, cast

There may be a hundred ways of apprehending the character of a man, but none perhaps is more reliable than

the appearance of his dwelling, and no discerning person that stepped into Captain Tardivet's parlour could

When Dame Capoulade had withdrawn, after bringing them their wine and casting a few logs upon the fire,

"Why are you not with the army, Charlot?" he asked in a tone which made the question sound like a demand.

"Have they not told you,"rejoined the other airily, engrossed in filling the glasses.

"I understand you were sent here to recover from a wound you received three months ago at Jemappes, and to

take charge of other invalided soldiers. But seemingly, your invalids do not number more than a halfdozen

out of the fifty or sixty men that are with you. How is it then, that you do not return with these to

"Because I can serve France better here," answered Charlot, "and at the same time enrich myself and my

"In short," returned La Boulaye coldly, "because you have degenerated from a soldier into a brigand."

Charlot looked up, and for just a second his glance was not without uneasiness. Then he laughed. He

"It was ever your way to take extreme views, Caron," he observed, with a certain whimsical regret of tone.

"That, no doubt, is what has made a statesman of you. You had chosen more wisely had you elected to serve

the Republic with your sword instead. Come, my friend," and he pointed to the wine, "let us pledge the

La Boulaye shrugged his shoulders slightly, and sighed. In the end he came forward and took the wine.

"Long live the Republic!" was Charlot's toast, and with a slight inclination of the head La Boulaye drained his

"Diable!" snapped the Captain, a trifle peevishly. "Can you not understand that in my own way I am serving

my country. You have called me a brigand. But you might say the same of General Dumouriez himself. How

"And so is this. He makes war upon the enemies of France that dwell in cities, whilst I, in a smaller way,

make war upon those that travel in coaches. I confine myself to emigres these damned aristocrats whom it

is every good Frenchman's duty to aid in stamping out. Over the frontiers they come with their jewels, their

plate, and their moneychests. To whom belongs this wealth? To France. Too long already have they

withheld from the sons of the soil that which belongs equally to them, and now they have the effrontery to

attempt to carry these riches out of the country. Would any true Republican dare to reproach me for what I

do? I am but seizing that which belongs to France, and here dividing it among the good patriots that are with

"Specious enough to satisfy the Convention itself if ever I should be called to task," answered Charlot, with

"Yes, Caron, I do," was the ready answer. "I am well aware of the extent of your power with the Mountain. In

Paris I can see that it might go hard with me if you were minded that it should, and you were able to seize me.

On the other hand, that such arguments that I have advanced to you would be acceptable to the Government I

do not doubt. But whilst they would approve of this that you call brigandage, I also do not doubt that they

would claim that the prizes I have seized are by right the property of the Convention, and they might compel

me to surrender them. Thus they would pass from my hands into those of some statesmanbrigand, who,

under the plea of seizing these treasures for the coffers of the nation, would transfer them to his own. Would

you rather help such an one to profit than me, Caron? Have you so far forgotten how we suffered together

almost in the selfsame cause at Bellecour, in the old days? Have you forgotten the friendship that linked

us later, in Paris, when the Revolution was in its dawn? Have you forgotten what I have endured at the hands

of this infernal class that you can feel no sympathy for me? Caron, it is a measure of revenge, and as there is a

Heaven, a very mild one. Me they robbed of more than life; them I deprive but of their jewels and their plate,

turning them destitute upon the world. Bethink you of my girlwife, Caron," he added, furiously, "and of

how she died of grief and shame a short three months after our hideous nuptials. God in Heaven! When the

memory of it returns to me I marvel at my own forbearance. I marvel that I do not take every man and woman

of them that fall into my hands and flog them to death as they would have flogged you when you sought

He grew silent and thoughtful, and the expression of his face was not nice. At last: "Have I given you reason

"Why, yes," answered La Boulaye, "more than was necessary. I am desolated that I should have brought you

"So it is, Caron. How it is I do not know. Perhaps it is my nature; perhaps it is that in youth sorrow is seldom

longenduring; perhaps it is the strenuous life I have lived and the changes that have been wrought in me

for, after all, there is a little in this Captain Tardivet that is like the peasant poor Marie took to husband, four

years ago. I am no longer the same man, and among the other things that I have put from me are the sorrows

that were of the old Charlot. But some memories cannot altogether die, and if today I no longer mourn that

poor child, yet the knowledge of the debt that lies 'twixt the noblesse of France and me is ever present, and I

neglect no opportunity of discharging a part of it. But enough of that, Caron. Tell me of yourself. It is a full

twelvemonth since last we met, and in that time, from what I have heard, you have done much and gone far.

They drew their chairs to the hearth, and they sat talking so long that the early February twilight came down

upon them while they were still at their reminiscences. La Boulaye had intended reaching Valenciennes that

night; but rather than journey forward in the dark he now proposed to lie at Boisvert, a resolution in which he

Amid the sordid surroundings of Charlot's private quarters the Captain and the Deputy supped that evening.

The supper sorted well with the house a greasy, illcooked meal that proved little inviting to the somewhat

fastidious La Boulaye. But the wine, plundered, no doubt, in common with the goblets out of which they

drank it was more than good, and whilst La Boulaye showed his appreciation of it, Charlot abused it like a

soldier. They sat facing each other across the little deal table, whose stains were now hidden by a cloth, and

to light them they had four tapers set in silver candlesticks of magnificent workmanship, and most wondrous

weight, which Tardivet informed his guest had been the property of a cidevant prince of the blood.

As the night wore on Captain Charlot grew boisterous and more confidential. He came at length to speak of

"I have taken prizes, Caron,"said he, "which a king might not despise. But today " He raised his eyes to

"I have made a capture worth more than all the others put together. It was an indifferentlooking berline, and

my men were within an ace of allowing it to pass. But I have a nose, mon cher" and he tapped the organ

with ludicrous significance "and, bon Dieu, what affair! I can smell an aristocrat a league off. Down upon

that coach I swooped like a hawk upon a sparrow. Within it sat two women, thickly veiled, and I give you my

word that in a sense I pitied them, for not a doubt of it, but they were in the act of congratulating themselves

upon their escape from France. But sentiment may become fatal if permitted to interfere with enterprise.

Stifling my regrets I desired them to alight, and they being wise obeyed me without demur. I allowed them to

retain their veils. I sought the sight of things other than women's faces, and a brief survey of the coach

showed me where to bestow my attention. I lifted the back seat. It came up like the lid of the chest it was, and

beneath it I discovered enough gold and silver plate to outweigh in value almost everything that I had ever

taken. But that was by no means all. Under the front seat there was a chest of gold louis d'ors they were,

some two or three thousand at least and, besides that, a little ironbound box of gems which in itself was

worth more than all the rest of the contents of that treasurecasket of a coach. I tell you, Caron, I dropped the

lid of that seat in some haste, for I was not minded that my men should become as wise as I. I stepped down

and bade, the women reenter, and hither under strong escort I have brought them."

"They are still in the coach below, with the women. I have told these that they shall spend the night there.

Tomorrow I shall see to them and give them their liberty which is a more generous proceeding than might

befall them at the hands of another. When they are gone comes the division of the spoil." He closed one eye

slowly, in a very ponderous wink. "To my men I shall relegate the gold and silver plate as well as the money.

For myself I shall only retain the little ironbound box. My followers will account me more than generous

and themselves more than satisfied. As for me, La Boulaye by St. Guillotine, I am tempted to emigrate also

and set up as an aristocrat myself in Prussia or England, for in that little box there is something more than a

fortune. I asked you today whether you were minded to lay information against me in Paris. My faith, I am

little concerned whether you do or not, for I think that before you can reach Paris, Captain Charlot Tardivet

will be no more than a name in the Republican army. Abroad I shall call myself Charlot du Tardivet, and I

shall sleep in fine linen and live on truffles and champagne. Caron, your health!"

"Eh? Trust them? Name of a name! They know me. I have placed the ten most faithful ones on guard. They

answer to the rest of us with their necks for the safety of their charge. Come hither, Caron."

He rose somewhat unsteadily, and lurched across to the window. La Boulaye followed him, and gazing out

under his indication, he beheld the coach by the blaze of a fire which the men had lighted to keep them from

"Why, yes secure enough. But if those fellows were to take it into their heads that it would be more

"Secreanom!!" swore Charlot impatiently. "You do my wits poor credit. For what do you take me? Have I

gone through so much, think you, without learning how little men are to be trusted? Faugh! Look at the

portecochere. The gates are closed aye, and locked, mon cher, and the keys are here, in my pocket. Do

you imagine they are to be broken through without arousing anyone? And then, the horses. They are in the

stables over there, and again, the keys are in my pocket. So that, you see, I do not leave everything to the

"In a hard school, Caron,"answered the Captain soberly. "Aye, name of a name, in a monstrous hard school."

He turned from the window, and the light of the tapers falling on his face, showed it heavily scored with lines

of pain, testifying to the ugly memories which the Deputy's light words had evoked. Then suddenly he

"La, la!" said he. "The thing's past. Charlot Tardivet the bridegroom of Bellecour and Captain Charlot of

He strode back to the table, filled his goblet, and gulped down the wine. Then he crossed to the fire and stood

with his back to La Boulaye for a spell. When next he faced his companion all signs of emotion had cleared

from his countenance. It was again the callous, reckless face of Captain Charlot, rendered a trifle more

reckless and a trifle more callous by the wineflush on his cheeks and the wineglitter in his eye.

"Not that, Charlot," he begged impressively, his dark face very set. "Plunder them, turn them destitute upon

"It is something to remember, is it not? They remembered it of our women, these aristocrats!"

There was so much ugly truth in the Captain's words, and such a suggestion of just, if bitter, retribution in his

mental attitude, that La Boulaye released his arm, at a loss for further arguments wherewith to curb him.

"Paydi!" Charlot continued, "I have a mind for a frolic. Does not justice give me the right to claim that these

"You will make my compliments to the citoyennes in the coach, Guyot, and tell them that the Citizencaptain

Then he went to the door, and calling Dame Capoulade, he bade her set two fresh covers; in which he was

expeditiously obeyed. La Boulaye stood by the fire, his pale face impassive now and almost indifferent.

Charlot returned to the window to learn from Guyot that the citoyennes thanked the Citizencaptain, but that

they were tired and sought to be excused, asking nothing better than to be allowed to remain at peace in their

"Sacred name of a name!" he croaked, a trifle thickly, for the wine he had taken was mastering him more and

more. "Are they defying us? Since they will not accept an invitation, compel them to obey a command. Bring

"They are coquettish these scented dames,"he mocked, as he poured himself out some wine. "You are not

"It is perhaps wise that one of us should remain sober," answered the Deputy quietly, for in spite of a certain

sympathy with the feelings by which Charlot was actuated, he was in dead antipathy to this baiting of women

Charlot made no answer. He drained his goblet and set it down with a bang. Then he flung himself into a

chair, and stretching out his long, booted legs he began to hum the refrain of the "Marseillaise." Thus a few

moments went by. Then there came a sound of steps upon the creaking stairs, and the gruff voice of the

At last the door opened and two women entered, followed by Guyot. Charlot lurched to his feet.

"You have come, Mesdames," said he, forgetting the mode of address prescribed by the Convention, and

For a moment or two after the soldier's departure the women remained in the shadow, then, at the Captain's

invitation, which they dared not disobey, they came forward into the halo of candlelight. Simultaneously La

Boulaye caught his breath, and took a step forward. Then he drew back again until his shoulders touched the

overmantel and there he remained, staring at the newcomers, who as yet, did not appear to have observed

They wore no headgear, and their scarfs were thrown back upon their shoulders, revealing to the stricken

gaze of La Boulaye the countenances of the Marquise de Bellecour and her daughter.

And now, as they advanced into the light, Charlot recognised them too. In the act of offering a chair he stood,

arrested, his eyes devouring first one, then the other of then, with a glance that seemed to have grown oddly

sobered. The flush died from his face, and his lips twitched like those of a man who seeks to control his

emotions. Then slowly the colour crept back into his cheeks, a curl of mockery appeared on the coarse mouth,

They tense silence was broken by the bang with which he dropped the chair he had half raised. As he leaned

forward now, La Boulaye read in his face the thought that had leapt into the Captain's mind, and had it been a

question of any woman other than Zuzanne de Bellecour, the Deputy might have indulged in the

consideration of what a wonderful retribution was there here. Into the hands of the man whose bride the

Marquis de Bellecour had torn from him were now delivered by a wonderful chance the wife and daughter of

that same Bellecour. And at Boisvert this briganding Captain was as much tonight the lord of life and death,

and all besides, as had been the Marquis of Bellecour of old. But he pondered not these things, for all that the

stern irony of the coincidence did not escape him. That evil look in Charlot's eyes, that sinister smile on

Charlot's lips, more than suggested what manner of vengeance the Captain would exact and that, for the

And the women did not see him. They were too much engrossed in the figure fronting them, and agonisedly,

with cheeks white and bosoms heaving, they waited, in their dread suspense. At last, drawing himself to the

"Mesdames," said he, his very tone an insult in its brutal derision, "we Republicans have abolished God, and

until tonight I have held the Republic right, arguing that if a God there was, His leanings must be aristocratic,

since He never seemed to concern Himself with the misfortunes of the lowlyborn. But tonight, mesdames, I

know that the Republic is at fault. There is a God a God of justice and retribution, who has delivered you,

of all people in the world, into my hands. Look on me well, Cidevant Marquise de Bellecour, and you,

Mademoiselle de Bellecour. Look in my face and see if you know me again. Not you. You never heeded me

as you rode by in those proud days. But heard you ever tell of one Charlot Tardivet, a base vassal whose wife

your husband, Madame, and your father, Mademoiselle, took from him on his bridal morn? Heard you ever

tell of that poor girl one Marie Tardivet who died of grief as a consequence of that brutality? But no; such

matters were too trivial for your notice if you saw them, or for your memory if you ever heard tell of them.

What was the life of a peasant more than that of any other animal of the land, that the concern of it should

perturb the sereneness of your aristocratic being? Mesdames, that Charlot Tardivet am I; that Marie Tardivet

was my wife. I knew not whom you were when I bade you sup at my table but now that I know it what do

It was the Marquise who answered him. She was deathly pale, and her words came breathlessly: for all that

"We look for the recollection that we are women and unless you are as cowardly as "

"Citoyenne,"he broke in harshly, answering her as he had answered La Boulaye, "was my wife less a woman

think you? Pah! There is yet another here who was wronged," he announced, and he waved his hand in the

The women turned, and at sight of the Deputy a cry escaped Suzanne. It was a cry of hope, for here was one

who would surely lend them aid. It was a fact, she thought, upon which the Captain had not counted. But La

Boulaye stood straight and cold, and not by so much as an inclination of the head did he acknowledge that

grim introduction. Charlot, mistaking Mademoiselle's exclamation, laughed softly.

"Well may you cry out, Citoyenne,"said he, "for him I see you recognise. He is the man who sought to rescue

my wife from the clutches of your lordly and most noble father. For his pains he was flogged until they

believed him dead. Is it not very fitting that he should be with me now to receive you?"

"But he, at least, is in my debt," cried Mademoiselle, now making a step forward, and sustained by an

excitement born of hope. "Whatever may be my father's sins, M. la Boulaye, at least, will not seek to visit

them upon the daughter, for he owes his life to me, and he will not forget the debt."

Charlot's brows were suddenly knit with vexation. He halfturned to La Boulaye, as if to speak; but ere he

"Aye, paid,"he rejoined. "You claimed your brother's life in payment, and I gave it to you. Do you not think

that we are quits? Besides," he ended suddenly, "Captain Tardivet is the master here. Address your appeals to

With terror written on her face, she turned from him to meet the flushed countenance of Charlot, who, with

arms akimbo and his head on one side, was regarding her at once with mockery and satisfaction.

"But, yes, Citoyenne,"he rejoined, in the tones we employ to those who fear unreasonably. "I shall prove

La Boulaye trembled, but his face remained calmly expressionless as he watched that grim scene.

Charlot shrugged his shoulders and laughed, whereupon Madame de Bellecour seemed to become a being

transformed. Her ample flesh, which but a moment back had quivered in fear, quivered now more violently

still in anger. The colour flowed back into her cheeks until they flamed an angry crimson, and her

vituperations rang in so loud and fierce a voice that at last, putting his hands to his ears, Charlot crossed to

"Silence!" he roared at her, so savagely that her spirit forsook her on the instant. "I will put an end to this," he

Charlot retraced his steps, leaving the door wide, his eyes dwelling upon Suzanne until she shrank under its

gaze, as she might have done from the touch of some unclean thing. She drew near to her mother, in whom

the brief paroxysm of rage was now succeeded by a no less violent paroxysm of weeping. On the stairs

"Mother," whispered Suzanne, setting her arms about her in a vain attempt to comfort. Then she heard

"I will not go,"she stormed, anger flashing again from the tearladen eyes. "I will not leave my daughter."

"Take her away, Guyot,"he said, shortly, and the sturdy soldier obeyed him with a roughness that took no

When the Marquise's last scream had died away in the distance, Charlot turned once more to Suzanne, and it

seemed that he sought to compose his features into an expression of gentleness beyond their rugged

limitations. But the glance of his blue eyes was kind, and mistaking the purport of that kindness,

Straight and tall, pale and delicate she stood, her beauty rendered, perhaps, the more appealing by virtue of

the fear reflected on her countenance. Her blue eyes were veiled behind their long black lashes, her lips were

tremulous, and her hands clasped and unclasped as she now made her prayer to the Republican. But in the

hardened heart of Charlot no breath of pity stirred. He beheld her beauty and he bethought him of his wrongs.

And yonder by the hearth stood La Boulaye like a statue, unmoved and immovable. The Captain was

speaking to her, gently and soothingly, but her thoughts became more taken with the silence of La Boulaye

than with the speech of Charlot. Even in that parlous moment she had leisure to despise herself for having

once on the day on which, in answer to her intercessions, he had spared her brother's life entertained a

kindly, almost wistful, thought concerning this man whom she now deemed a dastard.

Presently Charlot turned to La Boulaye, and for all that he uttered no word, his glance left nothing to be said.

"A mouthful of wine, and I'm gone, Charlot," said he in level, colourless tones, as taking up a flagon he filled

"Fill for me, too," cried the Captain; "aye, and for the Citoyenne here. Come, my girl, a cup of wine will

But Suzanne shrank from the invitation as much as from the tenor of it and the epithet he had applied to her.

"Oh! As you will. But the wine is goodfrom cellar of a cidevant Duke. My service to you, Citoyenne," he

pledged her, and raising his cup, he poured the wine down a throat that was parched by the much that he had

drunk already, But ere the goblet was halfempty, a sharp, sudden cry from La Boulaye came to interrupt his

quaffing. He glanced round, and at what he saw he spilled the wine down his waistcoat, then let the cup fall

She had approached the table whilst both men were drinking, and quietly possessed herself of a knife; and,

but that it was too blunt to do the service to which she put it, Charlot's intervention would have come too late.

As it was he caught her wrist in time, and in a rage he tore the weapon from her fingers, and flung it far

"So, pretty lady!" he gasped, now gripping both her wrists. "So! we are suicidally inclined, are we! We would

cheat Captain Charlot, would we? Fi donc!" he continued with horrid playfulness. "To shed a blood so blue

Accounting herself baffled at every point, this girl, who had hitherto borne herself so stoutly as to have

stoically sought death as a last means of escape, began to weep softly. Whereupon:

"Nay, nay, littlewoman,"murmured the Captain, in such accents as are employed to a petted child, and

instinctively, in his intent to soothe he drew her nearer. And now the close contact thrilled him; her beauty,

and some subtle perfume that reached him from her, played havoc with his senses. Nearer he drew her in

silence, his face white and clammy, and his hot, wine laden breath coming quicker every second. And

unresisting she submitted, for she was beyond resistance now, beyond tears even. From between wet lashes

her great eyes gazed into his with a look of deadly, piteous affright; her lips were parted, her cheeks ashen,

and her mind was dimly striving to formulate a prayer to the Holy Mother, the natural protectress of all

Nearer she felt herself drawn to her tormentor, in whose thoughts there dwelt now little recollection of the

vengeful character of his purpose. For a second her wrists were released; then she felt his arms going round

her as the coils of a snake go round its prey. With a sudden reassertion of self, with a panting gasp of horror,

she tore herself free. An oath broke from him as he sprang after her. Then the unexpected happened. Above

his head something bright flashed up, then down. There was a dull crack, and the Captain stopped short in his

rush; his hands were jerked to the height of his breast, and like a poleaxed beast he dropped and lay prone at

Across his fallen body she beheld La Boulaye standing impassively, the ghost of a smile on his thin lips, and

"It was a cowardly blow, Citoyenne," said the Deputy in accents of regret; "but what choice had I?" He set

down the candlestick, and kneeling beside Charlot, he felt for the Captain's heart. "The door, Citoyenne," he

Mechanically, and without uttering a word, she hastened to do his bidding. As the key grated in the lock he

"It has only stunned him," he announced. "Now to prepare an explanation for it."

He drew a chair under the old brass lamp, that hung from the ceiling. He mounted the chair, and with both

hands he seized the chain immediately above the lamp. Drawing himself up, he swung there for just a second;

then the hook gave way, and amid a shower of plaster La Boulaye halftumbled to the ground.

"There," said he, as he dropped the lamp with its chain and hook upon the floor by Charlot. "It may not be as

convincing as we might wish, but I think that it will prove convincing enough to the dull wits of the landlady,

and of such of Charlot's followers as may enter here. I am afraid," he deplored, "that it will be some time

before he recovers. He was so far gone in wine that it needed little weight to fell him."

Her glance met his once more, and she took a step towards him with hands outstretched.

"Monsieur, Monsieur!" she cried. "If you but knew how in my thoughts I wronged you a little while ago."

"You had all reason to," he answered, taking her hands, and there came the least softening of his stern

countenance. "It grieved me to add to your affliction. But had I permitted him to do so much as suspect that I

was anything but your implacable enemy, I had no chance of saving you. He would have dismissed me, and I

must have obeyed or been compelled, for he is master here, and has men enough to enforce what he desires."

And now she would have thanked him for having saved her, but he cut her short almost roughly.

"You owe me no thanks,"he said. "I have but done for you what my manhood must have bidden me do for

any woman similarly situated. For tonight I have saved you, Citoyenne. I shall make an effort to smuggle

you and your mother out of Boisvert before morning, but after that you must help yourselves."

"I do not yet know. I must consider. In the meantime you had best return to your coach. Later tonight I shall

have you and your mother brought to me, and I will endeavour to so arrange matters that you shall not again

"But, Monsieur, you do not know; there is a treasure in that carriage. All that we have is packed in it, and if

"Better, perhaps, to go destitute than not to go at all, Mademoiselle. I am afraid there is no choice for you."

His manner was a trifle impatient. It irritated him that in such a moment she should give so much thought to

her valuables. But in reality she was thinking of them inasmuch as they concerned her mother, who was

below, and her father and brother who awaited them in Prussia, whither they had separately emigrated. The

impatience in his tone stung her into a feeling of resentment, that for the moment seemed to blot out the much

that she owed him. A reproachful word was trembling on her lips, when suddenly he put out his hand.

"Hist!" he whispered, the concentrated look of one who listens stamped upon his face. His sharp ears had

detected some sound which perhaps through her preoccupation she had not noticed. He stepped quickly

to the Captain's side, and taking up the lamp by its chain, he leapt into the air like a clown, and came down on

his heels with a thud that shook the chamber. Simultaneously he dropped the lamp with a clatter, and sent a

The girl stared at him with parted lips and the least look of fear in her eyes. Was he gone clean mad of a

But now the sound which had warned him of someone's approach reached her ears as well. There were steps

on the stairs, which at that alarming noise were instantly quickened. Yet ere they had reached the top La

Into the room came the hostess, breathless and grinning with anxiety, and behind her came Guyot, who,

At sight of the Captain stretched upon the floor there was a scream from Mother Capoulade and an oath from

"Miserable!" exclaimed La Boulaye, with wellfeigned anger. "It seems that your wretched hovel is tumbling

to pieces, and that men are not safe beneath its roof." And he indicated the broken plaster and the fallen lamp.

"How did it happen, Citoyennedeputy?" asked Guyot; for all that he drew the only possible inference from

"Can you not see how it happened?" returned La Boulaye, impatiently. "As for you, wretched woman, you

will suffer for it, I promise you. The nation is likely to demand a high price for Captain Charlot's injuries."

"To blame," echoed La Boulaye, in a furious voice. "Are you not to blame that you let rooms in a crazy

hovel? Let them to emigres as much as you will, but if you let them to good patriots and thereby endanger

their lives you must take the consequences. And the consequences in this case are likely to be severe,

He turned now to Guyot, who was kneeling by the Captain, and looking to his hurt.

"Here, Guyot,"he commanded sharply, "reconduct the Citoyenne to her coach. I will perhaps see her again

later, when the Captain shall have recovered consciousness. You, Citoyenne Capoulade, assist me to carry

Each obeyed him, Guyot readily, as became a soldier, and the hostess trembling with the dread which La

Boulaye's words had instilled into her. They got Charlot to bed, and when a halfhour or so later he

recovered consciousness, it was to find Guyot watching at his bedside. Bewildered, he demanded an

explanation of his present position and of the pain in his head, which brought him the memory of a sudden

and unaccountable blow he had received, which was the last thing that he remembered. Guyot, who had never

for a moment entertained a doubt of the genuineness of the miseenscene La Boulaye had prepared,

answered him with the explanation of how he had been struck by the falling lamp, whereupon Charlot fell to

cursing lamps and crumblings with horrid volubility. That done he would have risen, but that La Boulaye,

"Are you mad?" the Deputy expostulated, "or is it that you do not appreciate the nature of your hurt? Diable!

I have known a man die through insisting to be about with a cracked skull that was as nothing to yours."

"Name of a name! gasped Charlot, who in such matters was profoundly ignorant and correspondingly

"Not serious if you lie still and sleep. You will probably be quite well by tomorrow. But if you move

"We will try to find you a sleeping potion, then,"said La Boulaye. "I hope the hosteen may have something

that will answer the purpose. Meanwhile, Guyot, do not allow the Captain to talk. If you would have him well

tomorrow, remember that it is of the first importance that he should have utter rest tonight."

With that he went in quest of Dame Capoulade to ascertain whether she possessed any potion that would

induce sleep. He told her that the Captain was seriously injured, and that unless he slept he might die, and,

quickened by the terror of what might befall her in such a case, the woman presently produced a small phial

full of a brown, viscous fluid. What it might be he had no notion, being all unversed in the mysteries of the

pharmacopoeia; but she told him that it had belonged to her now defunct husband, who had always said that

He experimented on the Captain with ten drops, and within a quarter of an hour of taking the draught of red

wine in which it was administered, Charlot's deep breathing proclaimed him fast asleep.

That done, La Boulaye sent Guyot below to his post once more, and returning to the room in which they had

supped, he paced up and down for a full hour, revolving in his mind the matter of saving Mademoiselle and

her mother. At last, towards ten o'clock, he opened the casement, and calling down to Guyot, as Charlot had

done, he bade him bring the women up again. Now Guyot knew of the high position which Caron occupied in

the Convention, and he had seen the intimate relations in which he stood to Tardivet, so that unhesitatingly he

La Boulaye closed the window, and crossed slowly to the fire. He stirred the burning logs with his boot, then

stood there waiting. Presently the stairs creaked, next the door opened, and Guyot ushered in Mademoiselle.

"The elder citoyenne refuses to come, Citizendeputy," said the soldier. "They both insisted that it was not

Almost on the point of commanding the soldier to return for the Marquise, Caron caught the girl's eye, and

her glance was so significant that he thought it best to hear first what motives she had for thus disobeying

"Very well,"he said shortly. "You may go below, Guyot. But hold yourself in readiness lest I should have

The soldier saluted and disappeared. Scarce was he gone when Mademoiselle came hurrying forward.

"Monsieur Caron," she cried "Heaven is surely befriending us. The soldiers are drinking themselves out of

"But," he demanded at last, "why did not the Marquise obey my summons, and accompany you?"

"She was afraid to leave the coach, Monsieur. Moreover, she agreed with me that it would not be necessary."

"Not necessary?" he echoed. "But it is necessary. When last you were here I told you I did not intend you

should return to the coach. This is my plan, Citoyenne. I shall keep Guyot waiting below while you and your

mother are fortifying yourselves by supper here. Then I shall dismiss him with a recommendation that he

keep a close watch upon the carriage, and the information that you will not be returning to it tonight. A

halfhour later or so, when things are quiet, I shall find a way out for you by the back, after which the rest

She looked at his stern, sardonic face and solemn grey eyes, and for a moment it almost seemed to her that

she hated him more than anybody in the world. He was so passionless, so master of himself, and he addressed

her in a tone which, whilst it suggested that he accounted himself most fully her equal, made her feel that he

was really her better by much. If one of these two was an aristocrat, surely that one was the Citizendeputy

"If you had but the will you would do it, Monsieur,"she answered him. "It is not mine to enlighten you; I

"I have the very best will in the world, Citoyenne," said he. "Of that I think that I am giving proof."

"Aye, the will to do nothing that will shame your manhood," she rejoined. "That is all you think of. It was

because your manhood bade you that you came to my rescue so you said when you declined my thanks. It

is this manhood of yours, I make no doubt, that is now prevailing upon you to deliver two unprotected

"In Heaven's name, Citoyenne," quoth the astonished Deputy, "out of what sentiment would you have me act,

and, indeed, so that I save you, how can it concern you by what sentiment I am prompted?"

She paused a moment before replying. Her eyes were downcast, and some of the colour faded from her

"Monsieur,"she faltered very shyly, "in the old days at Bellecour you would have served me out of other

He started now in spite of himself, and eyed her with a sudden gleam of hope, or triumph, or mistrust, or

"The days, yes," she answered, taking courage from his tone. "But love Monsieur, is everlasting it never

And now it was La Boulaye who drew closer, and this man who had so rigidly schooled himself out of all

emotions, felt his breath quickening, and his pulses throbbing faster and faster. To him it seemed that she was

right, and that love never died for the love for her, which he believed he had throttled out of existence long

ago, seemed of a sudden to take life as vigorously as ever. And then it was as if some breeze out of the past

bore to his nostrils the smell of the violets and of the moist earth of that April morning when she had repulsed

him in the woods of Bellecour. His emotion died down. He drew back, and stood rigid before her.

"And if it were to live, Citoyenne," he said the resumption of the Republican form of address showed that

he had stepped back into the spirit as well as in the flesh "what manner of fool were I to again submit it to the

"But that belonged to the old days," she cried, "and it is dead with the old days.'

"It is vain to go back, Citoyenne," he cut in, and his voice rang harsh with determination.

She bit her lip under cover of her bent head. If she had hated him before how much more did she not hate him

now? And but a moment back it had seemed to her that she had loved him. She had held out her hands to him

and he had scorned them; in her eagerness she had been unmaidenly, and all that she had earned had been

humiliation. She quivered with shame and anger, and sinking into the nearest chair she burst into a passion of

Thus by accident did she stumble upon the very weapon wherewith to make an utter rout of all Caron's

resolutions. For knowing nothing of the fountain from which those tears were springing, and deeming them

the expression of a grief pure and unalloyed saving, perhaps, by a worthy penitence he stepped swiftly to

"Mademoiselle,"he murmured, and his tone was as gentle and beseeching as it had lately been imperious.

But her tears continued, and her sobs shook the slender frame as if to shatter it. He dropped upon his knees.

Scarcely knowing what he did, he set his arm about her waist in a caress of protection.

>From it she judged him malleable now, that had been so stern and unyielding before. She raised her eyes,

and through her tears she turned their heavenly blue full upon the grey depths of his.

"You will not believe me, Monsieur,"she complained softly. "You will not believe that I can have changed

with the times; that I see things differently now. If you were to come to me again as in the woods at Bellecour

" She paused abruptly, her cheeks flamed scarlet, and she covered them with her hands.

"Suzanne!" he cried, seeking to draw those hands away. "Is it true, this? You care, beloved!"

She inclined her head, smiling through her tears, and he would have caught her to him but that she rose of a

He listened, holding his breath, but no sound stirred. He went to the door and peered out. All was still. But

the interruption served to impress him with the fact that time was speeding, and that all unsuspicious though

Guyot might be as yet, it was more than possible that his suspicions would be aroused if she remained there

He mentioned this, and he was beginning to refer to his plan for their escape when she thrust it aside,

insisting that they must depart in their coach, so that their treasure might also be saved."

"Nay, surely not impossible," she answered. "Listen, Caron, there are two treasures in that coach. One is in

money and in gold and silver plate; the other is in gems, and amounts to thrice the value of the rest. This

latter is my dowry. It is a fortune with which we can quit France and betake ourselves wherever our fancy

leads us. Would you ask me to abandon that and come to you penniless, compelled thereby to live in

perpetual terror in a country where at any moment an enemy might cast at me the word aristocrate, and

There was no cupidity in La Boulaye's nature, and even the prospect of an independent fortune would have

weighed little with him had it not been backed by the other argument she employed touching the terror that

He stood deep in thought, his hand to his brow, thrusting back the long black hair from his white forehead,

He thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and set himself to pace the chamber. And now his fingers came in

contact with something foreign. Idly he drew it forth, and it proved to be the phial Mother Capoulade had

given him, and from which he had poured the ten drops for the Captain's sleeping potion. His eyes brightened

with inspiration. Here was a tool whose possibilities were vast. Then his brows were knit again.

Resting his elbow on the table, and with his hand to his brow, Caron sat deep in thought, his forefinger and

thumb pressed against his closed eyelids. From beyond the board Mademoiselle watched him anxiously and

"I think I have it," he announced, rising. "You say that the men are drinking heavily. That should materially

She asked him what plan he had conceived, but he urged that time pressed; she should know presently;

meanwhile, she had best return immediately to her carriage. He went to the door to call Guyot, but she stayed

"No, no, Monsieur,"she exclaimed. "I will not pass through the commonroom again in that fellow's

As if to confirm her words, now that he held the door open, he caught some sounds of mirth and the drone of

"Come with me, then,"said he, taking up one of the candles. "I will escort you."

Together they descended the narrow staircase, La Boulaye going first, to guide her, since two might not go

abreast. At the foot there was a door, which he opened, and then, at the end of a short passage in which the

drone of voices sounded very loud and in particular one, cracked voice that was raised in song they gained

the door of the commonroom. As La Boulaye pushed it open they came upon a scene of Bacchanalian

revelry. On a chair that had been set upon the table they beheld Mother Capoulade enthroned like a Goddess

of Liberty, and wearing a Phrygian cap on her dishevelled locks. Her yellow cheeks were flushed and her

Around the table, in every conceivable attitude of abandonment, sat Captain Charlot's guard every man of

the ten and with them the six men and the corporal of La Boulaye's escort, all more or less in a condition of

"Le jour de gloire est arrive?" sang the croaking voice of Dame Capoulade, and there it stopped abruptly

upon catching sight of La Boulaye and his companion in the doorway. Mademoiselle shivered out of

loathing; but La Boulaye felt his pulses quickened with hope, for surely all this was calculated to assist him in

At the abrupt interruption of the landlady's version of the "Marseillaise "the men swung round, and upon

seeing the Deputy they sought in ludicrous haste to repair the disorder of their appearance.

"So!" thundered Caron. "This is the watch you keep? This is how you are to be trusted? And you, Guyot," he

continued, pointing his finger at the man. "Did I not bid you await my orders? Is this how you wait? You see

that I am compelled to reconduct the Citoyenne myself, for I might have called you in vain all night."

"It had been a miracle if you had with this din," answered La Boulaye. "Here, take the Citoyenne back to her

Obediently Guyot led the Citoyenne across the room and out into the courtyard, and the men, restrained by

La Boulaye's severe presence, dared scarcely so much as raise their eyes to her as she passed out.

"And now to your posts," was Caron's stern command. "By my soul, if you were men of mine I would have

"Do you call yourself soldiers, and does a touch of frost make cowards of you? Outside, you old wives, at

And with that he set himself to drive them out, and they went, until none but his own halfdozen remained.

These he bade dispose themselves about the hearth, in which they very readily obeyed him.

On a sidetable stood a huge steaming can which had attracted La Boulaye's attention from the moment that

he had entered the room. He went to peer into this, and found it full almost to the brim of mulled red wine.

With his back to those in the room, so as to screen his actions, he had uncorked the phial as he was

approaching the can. Now, as he made pretence first to peer into it and then to smell its contents, he

surreptitiously emptied the potion into it, wondering vaguely to himself whether the men would ever wake

again if they had drunk it. Slipping the phial into his sash he turned to Mother Capoulade, who had descended

"It was a last cup of wine for the men," she faltered. "The night is bitterly cold, Citizen," she added, by way

"Bah!" snarled Caron, and for a moment he stood there as if deliberating. "I am minded to empty it into the

And with that he strode across the room, and with a surly "Goodnight" to his men, he mounted the stairs

He waited perhaps ten minutes in the chamber above, then he went to the casement, and softly opened the

window. It was as he expected. With the exception of the coach standing in the middle of the yard, and just

discernible by the glow of the smouldering fire they had built there but allowed to burn low, the place was

untenanted. Believing him to have retired for the night, the men were back again in the more congenial

atmosphere of the hostelry, drinking themselves no doubt into a stupor with that last can of drugged wine. He

sat down to quietly mature his plans, and to think out every detail of what he was about to do. At the end of a

halfhour, silence reigning throughout the house, he rose. He crept softly into Charlot's chamber and

possessed himself of the Captain's outer garments. These he carried back to the sittingroom, and extracted

from the coat pocket two huge keys tied together with a piece of string. He never doubted that they were the

keys he sought, one opening the stable door and the other the gates of the portecochere.

He replaced the garments, and then to make doubly sure, he waited yet in a fever of impatience another

It wanted a few minutes to midnight when, taking up his cloak and a lantern he had lighted, he went below

once more. In the commonroom he found precisely the scene he had expected. Both Charlot's men and his

own followers lay about the floor in all conceivable manner of attitudes, their senses locked deep in the

drunken stupor that possessed them. Two or three had remained seated, and had fallen across the table, when

overcome. Of these was Mother Capoulade, whose head lay sideways on her curled arms, and from whose

throat there issued a resonant and melodious snore. Most of the faces that La Boulaye could see were horribly

livid and bedewed with sweat, and again it came into his mind to wonder whether he had overdone things,

and they would wake no more. On the other hand, an even greater fear beset him, that the drug might have

been insufficient. By way of testing it, he caught one fellow who lay across his path a violent kick in the side.

The man grunted in his sleep, and stirred slightly, to relapse almost at once into his helpless attitude, and to

La Boulaye smiled his satisfaction, and without further hesitancy passed out into the yard. He had yet a good

deal to say to Mademoiselle, but he could not bring himself to speak to her before her mother, particularly as

he realised how much the Marquise might be opposed to him. He opened the carriage door.

"Mademoiselle," he called softly, "will you do me the favour to alight for an instant? I must speak to you."

"Can you not say what you have to say where you are?" came the Marquise's voice.

"Oh, it is 'Madame' and 'Mademoiselle' now, eh? What have you done to the man, child, to have earned us so

"May I remind Mademoiselle," put in La Boulaye firmly, "that time presses, and that there is much to be

"I am here, Monsieur" she answered, as without more ado, and heedless of her mother's fresh remarks, she

La Boulaye proffered his wrist to assist her to alight, then reclosed the door, and led her slowly towards the

"Every soul in the inn is asleep," he answered. "I have drugged them all, from the Captain down to the

hostess. The only one left is the ostler, who is sleeping in one of the outhouses here. Him you must take with

you, not only because it is not possible to drug him as well, but also because the blame of your escape must

"Ah!" It was no more than a breath of interrogation, and her face was turned towards him as she awaited an

"I have given it much thought, Suzanne, and unless someone remains to cover, as it were, your retreat, I am

afraid that your flight might be vain, and that you would run an overwhelming risk of recapture. You must

remember the resourcefulness of this fellow, Tardivet, and his power in the country here. If he were to awake

to the discovery that I had duped him, he would be up and after us, and I make little doubt that it would not

be long ere he found the scent and ran us to earth. Tomorrow I shall discover your flight and the villainy of

the ostler, and I shall so organise the pursuit that you shall not be overtaken."

There was a moment's pause, during which La Boulaye seemed to expect some question. But none came, so

"Your original intention was to make for Prussia, where you say that your father and your brother are

"You must alter your plans," said he shortly. "Your mother, no doubt, will insist upon repairing thither, and I

will see that the road is left open for her escape. At Soignies you, Suzanne, can hire yourself a berline, that

"Yes, back to France. That is the unlikeliest road on which to think of pursuing you, and thus you will baffle

Charlot. Let your mother proceed on her journey to Prussia, but tell her to avoid Charleroi, and to go round

by Liege. Thus only can she hope to escape Tardivet's men that are patrolling the road from France. As for

you, Suzanne, you had best go North as far as Oudenarde, so as to circumvent the Captain's brigands on that

side. Then make straight for Roubaix, and await me at the 'Hotel des Cloches.' "

"As Mademoiselle de Bellecour, a proscribed aristocrat, that is every reason for your fears. But I have given.

the matter thought and I can promise you that as the Citoyenne La Boulaye, wife of the Citizendeputy Caron

La Boulaye, you will be as safe as I should be myself, if you are questioned, and, in response, you will find

She spoke now of the difficulties her mother would make, but he dismissed the matter by reminding her that

her mother could not detain her by force. Again she alluded to her dowry, but that also he dismissed, bidding

her leave it behind. Her family would need the money, to be realised by the jewels. As for herself, he assured

her that as his wife she would not want, and showed her how idle was her dread of living in France.

He opened the door of the outhouse, and uncovering his lantern he raised it above his head. Its yellow light

revealed to them a sleeper on the straw in a corner. La Boulaye entered and stirred the man with his foot.

The fellow sat up blinking stupidly and dragging odd wisps of straw from his grey hair.

As briefly as might be La Boulaye informed him that he was to receive a matter of five hundred francs if he

Five hundred francs? It was a vast sum, the tenth of which had never been his at any one time of his wretched

life. For five hundred francs he would have journeyed into Hades, and La Boulaye found him willing enough

to go to Prussia, and had no need to resort to the more forcible measures he had come prepared to employ.

Accompanied by the ostler, they now passed to the stables, and when La Boulaye had unlocked the door and

cut the bonds that pinioned the Marquis's coachman, they got the horses, and together they harnessed them as

Then working with infinite precaution, and as little sound as possible, they brought them out into the yard and

set them in the shafts of the carriage. The rest was easy work, and a quarter of an hour later the heavy vehicle

La Boulaye dropped the keys into a bucket and went within. In the commonroom nothing had changed, and

the men lay about precisely as he had left them. Reassured, he went above and took a peep at the Captain,

Satisfied that all was well, Caron passed quietly to his own chamber, and with an elation of soul such as had

never been his since boyhood, he fell asleep amid visions of Suzanne and the new life he was to enter upon in

La Boulaye awakened betimes next morning. It may be that the matter on his mind and the business that was

toward aroused him; certainly it was none of the sounds that are common to an inn at early morn, for the

Some seconds he remained on his back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling and listening to the patter of the

rain against his window. Then, as his mind gathered up the threads of recollection, he leapt from his bed and

He stood a moment at his casement, looking out into the empty courtyard. From a leaden sky the rain was

descending in sheets, and the gargoyle at the end of the eaves overhead was discharging a steady column of

water into the yard. Caron shivered with the cold of that gloomy February morning, and turned away from the

window. A few moments later he was in Tardivet's bedchamber, vigorously shaking the sleeping Captain.

"What o'clock?" he asked with a yawn. Then a sudden groan escaped him, and he put his hand to his head.

But La Boulaye was not there on any mission of sympathy, nor did he waste words in conveying his news.

"What coach?" echoed La Boulaye testily. "How many coaches were there? Why, the Bellecour coach; the

At that Charlot grew very wideawake. He forgot his headache and his interest in the time of day.

"Look for yourself,"was La Boulaye's answer as he waved his hand in the direction of the window. "I don't

know what manner of watch your men can have kept that such a thing should have come about. Probably,

knowing you ill abed, they abused the occasion by getting drunk, and probably they are still sleeping it off.

But Tardivet scarcely heard him. From his window he was staring into the yard below, too thunderstruck by

its emptiness to even have recourse to profanity. Stable door and portecochere alike stood open. He turned

suddenly and made for his coat. Seizing it, he thrust his hand in one pocket after another. At last:

"Treachery!" he cried, and letting the garment fall to the ground, he turned upon La Boulaye a face so

transfigured by anger that it looked little like the usually goodhumoured countenance of Captain Tardivet

"Did anybody know that the keys were in your pocket?" asked the ingenuous Caron.

"Why, then, let us find the ostler," urged Caron. "Put on some clothes and we will go below."

Mechanically Charlot obeyed him, and as he did so he gave his feelings vent at last. From between set teeth

came now a flow of oaths and imprecations as steady as the flow of water from the gargoyle overhead.

At last they hastened down the stairs together, and in the commonroom they found the sleeping company

much as La Boulaye had left it the night before. In an access of rage at what he saw, and at the ample

evidences of the debauch that had reduced them to this condition, Charlot began by kicking the chair from

under Mother Capoulade. The noise of her fall and the scream with which she awoke served to arouse one or

But Charlot was busy stirring the other slumberers. He had found a whip, and with this he was now laying

His whip cracked, and his imprecations rang high and lurid. And La Boulaye assisted him in his labours with

At last they were on their feet a pale, bewildered, shamefaced company receiving from the infuriated

Charlot the news that whilst they had indulged themselves in their drunken slumbers their prisoners had

escaped and carried off the treasure with them. The news was received with a groan of dismay, and several

turned to the door to ascertain for themselves whether it was indeed exact. The dreary emptiness of the

Quivering with terror, she answered him that the rascal should be in the shed by the stables, where it was his

wont to sleep. Out into the rain, despite the scantiness of his attire, went Charlot, followed closely by La

Boulaye and one or two stragglers. The shed proved empty, as Caron could have told him and so, too, did

the stables. Here, at the spot where Madame de Bellecour's coachman had been left bound, the Captain turned

"It is the ostler's work," he announced. "There was knavery and treachery writ large upon his ugly face. I

always felt it, and this business proves how correct were my instincts. The rogue was bribed when he

discovered how things were with you, you greasy sots. But you, La Boulaye," he cried suddenly, "were you

"Then, name of a name, how came that lumbering coach to leave the yard without awakening you?"

"You ask me to explain too much," was La Boulaye's cool evasion. "I have always accounted myself a light

sleeper, and I could not have believed that such a thing could really have taken place without disturbing me.

But the fact remains that the coach has gone, and I think that instead of standing here in idle speculation as to

how it went, you might find more profitable employment in considering how it is to brought back again. It

If any ray of suspicion had begun to glimmer in Charlot's brain, that suggestion of La Boulaye's was enough

They returned indoors, and without more ado Tardivet set himself to plan the pursuit. He knew, he

announced, that Prussia was their destination. He had discovered it at the time of their capture from certain

papers that he had found in a portmanteau of the Marquise's. He discussed the matter with La Boulaye, and it

was now that Caron had occasion to congratulate himself upon his wisdom in having elected to remain

The Captain proposed to recall the fifty men that were watching the roads from France, and to spread them

along the River Sambre, as far as Liege, to seek information of the way taken by the fugitives. As soon as any

one of the parties struck the trail it was to send word to the others, and start immediately in pursuit.

Now, had Charlot been permitted to spread such a net as this, the Marquise must inevitably fall into it, and

Caron had pledged his word that she should have an open road to Prussia. With a map spread upon the table

he now expounded to the Captain how little necessity there was for so elaborate a scheme. The nearest way to

Prussia was by Charleroi, Dinant, and Rochefort, into Luxembourg, and he contended it was not only

unlikely, but incredible, that the Marquise should choose any but the shortest road to carry her out of

Belgium, seeing the dangers that must beset her until the frontiers of Luxembourg were passed.

"And so,"argued La Boulaye, "why waste time in recalling your men? Think of the captives you might miss

by such an act! It were infinitely better advised. to assume that the fugitives have taken the CharleroiDinant

"Yom are right," he agreed at last. "If they have resolved to continue their journey, a halfdozen men should

"If they have resolved to continue their journey?" he echoed. "What else should they have resolved?"

"In organising a pursuit,"aid he, "the wise pursuer will always put himself in the place of the fugitives, and

seek to reason as they would probably reason. Now, what more likely than that these ladies, or their

coachman, or that rascally ostler, should have thought of doubling back into France? They might naturally

argue that we; should never think of pursuing them in that direction. Similarly placed, that is how I should

reason, and that is the course I should adopt, making for Prussia through Lorraine. Perhaps I do their

"Pooh! A detour might circumvent them. The Marquise might go as far north as Roubaix or Comines, or as

fair south as Rocroy, or even Charlemont. Name of a name, but it is more than likely!" he exclaimed, with

"Well, we shall see. I will despatch a message to my men, bidding them spread themselves as far north as

Comiines and as far south as Charlemont. Should the fugitives have made such a detour as I suggested there

La Boulaye still contemned the notion with a fine show of indifference, but Tardivet held to his purpose, and

presently despatched the messengers as he had proposed. At that Caron felt his pulses quickening with

anxiety for Mademoiselle. These astute measures must inevitably result im her capture for was it not at

Roubaix that he had bidden her await him? There was but one thing to be done, to ride out himself to meet

her along the road from Soignies to Oudenarde, and to escort her into France. She should go ostensibly as his

prisoner, and he was confident that not all the brigands of Captain Tardivet would suffice to take her from

Accordingly, he announced his intention of resuming his interrupted journey, and ordered his men to saddle

and make ready. Meanwhile, having taken measures to recapture the Marquise should she have doubled back

into France, Charlot was now organising an expedition to scour the road to Prussia, against the possibility of

her having adhered to her original intention of journeying that way. Thus he was determined to take no risks,

Tardivet would have set himself at the head of the six horsemen of this expedition, but that La Boulaye

interfered, and this time to some purpose. He assured the Captain that he was still far from recovered, and

that to spend a day in the saddle might have the gravest of consequences for him.

"If the occasion demanded it," he concluded, "I should myself urge you to chance the matter of your health.

But the occasion does not. The business is of the simplest, and your men can do as much without you as they

Tardivet permitted himself to be persuaded, and Caron had again good cause to congratulate himself that he

had remained behind to influence him. He opined that the men, failing to pick up the trail at Charleroi, would

probably go on as far as Dinant before abandoning the chase; then they would return to Boisvert to announce

their failure, and by that time it would be too late to reorganise the pursuit. On the other hand, had Tardivet

accompanied them, upon failing to find any trace of the Marquise at Charleroi, La Boulaye could imagine

him pushing north along the Sambre, and pressing the peasantry into his service to form an impassable

And so, having won his way in this at least, and seen the six men set out under the command of Tardivet's

trusted Guyot, Caron took his leave of the Captain. He was on the very point of setting out when a courier

dashed up to the door of the "Eagle," and called for a cup of wine. As it was brought him he asked the hostess

whether the Citizendeputy La Boulaye, Commissioner to the army of Dumouriez, had passed that way.

Upon being informed that the Deputy was even then within the inn, the courier got down from his horse and

The hostess led him into the commonroom, and pointed out the Deputy. The courier heaved a sigh of relief,

and removing his sodden cloak he bade the landlady get it dried and prepare him as stout a meal as her

"Name of a name!" he swore, as he pitched his dripping hat into a corner. "But it is good to find you at last,

Citizendeputy? I had expected to meet you at Valenciennes. But as you were not there, and as my letters

were urgent, I have been compelled to ride for the past six hours through that infernal deluge. Enfin, here you

are, and here is my letter from the Citizendeputy Maximilien Robespierre and here I'll rest me for the

Bidding the fellow by all means rest and refresh himself, La Boulaye broke the seal, and read the following:

My courier should deliver you this letter as you are on the Point of reentering France, on your return from the

mission which you have discharged with so much glory to yourself and credit to me who recommended you

for the task. I make you my compliments on the tact and adroitness you have employed to bring this stubborn

Dumouriez into some semblance of sympathy with the Convention. And now, my friend, I have another task

for you, which you can discharge on your homeward journey. You will make a slight detour, passing into

Artois and riding to the Chateau d'Ombreval, which is situated some four miles south of Arras. Here I wish

you not only to Possess yourself of the person of the cidevant Vicomte d'Ombreval, bringing him to Paris as

your Prisoner, but further, to make a very searching investigation of that aristocrat's papers, securing any

documents that you may consider of a nature treasonable to the French Republic, One and Indivisible.

"It seems," he muttered to Charlot, "that I am to turn catchpoll in the service of the Republic."

"To a true servant of the Nation," put in the courier, who had overheard him, "all tasks that may tend to the

advancement of the Republic should be eagerly undertaken. Diable! Have not I ridden in the rain these six

La Boulaye paid no heed to him; he was too inured to this sort of insolence since the new rule had levelled all

He was a tall man of rather slender stature, but indifferently dressed in garments that were splashed from

head to foot with mud, and from which a steam was beginning to rise as he stood now with his back to the

fire. Charlot eyed him so narrowly that the fellow shifted his position and dropped his glance in some

discomfort. His speech, though rough of purport, had not been ungentle of delivery. But his face was dirty

the sure sign of an ardent patriot his hair hung untidy about his face, and he wore that latest abomination of

"My friend," said Charlot, "although we are ready to acknowledge you our equal, we should like you to

understand that we do not take lessons in duty even from our equals. Bear you that in mind if you seek to

have a peaceful time while you are here, for it so happens that I am quartered at this inn, and have a more

"You talk of equality and you outrage equality in a breath," he growled. "I half suspect you of being a

"Suspect what you will, but voice no suspicions here, else you'll become acquainted with the mighty short

methods of Charlot Tardivet. And as for aristocrats, my friend, there are none so rabid as the

Before the fellow could make any answer the corporal in command of La Boulaye's escort entered to inform

At that the Deputy hurriedly took his leave of Tardivet, and wrapping his heavy cloak tightly about him he

A few moments later they clattered briskly out of Boisvert, the thick grey mud flying from their horses' hoofs

as they went, and took the road to France. For a couple of miles they rode steadily along under the unceasing

rain and in the teeth of that bleak February wind. Then at a crossroad La Boulaye unexpectedly called a halt.

"My friends," he said to his escort, "we have yet a little business to discharge in Belgium before we cross the

With that he announced his intention of going North, and so briskly did he cause them to ride, that by noon

a short three hours after quitting Boisvert they had covered a distance of twentyfive miles, and brought up

At this, the only posthouse in the place, La Boulaye made inquiries as to whether any carriage had arrived

from Soignies that morning, to receive a negative answer. This nowise surprised him, for he hardly thought

that Mademoiselle could have had time to come so far. She must, however, be drawing nearer, and he

determined to ride on to meet her. From Leuze to Soignies is a distance of some eight or nine leagues by a

road which may roughly be said to be the basis of a triangle having its apex at Boisvert.

After his men had hurriedly refreshed themselves, La Boulaye ordered them to horse again, and they now

cantered out, along this road, to Soignes. But as mile after mile was covered without their coming upon any

sign of such a carriage as Mademoiselle should be travelling in, La Boulaye almost unconsciously quickened

the pace until in the end they found themselves careering along as fast as their jaded horses would bear them,

Soignies itself was reached towards four o'clock, and still they had not met her whom La Boulaye expected.

Here, in a state of some wonder and even of some anxiety, Caron made straight for the Auberge des Postes.

Bidding his men dismount and see to themselves and their beasts, he went in quest of the host, and having

In reply he elicited the information that at noon that day a carriage such as he described had reached Soignies

in a very sorry condition. One of the wheels had come off on the road, and although the Marquise's men had

contrived to replace it and to rudely secure it by an improvised pin, they had been compelled to proceed at a

walk for some fifteen miles of the journey, which accounted for the lateness of their arrival at Soignies. They

had remained at the Auberge des Postes until the wheel had been properly mended, and it was not more than

"But did both the citoyennes depart?" cried La Boulaye, in amazement, and upon receiving an affirmative

reply it at once entered his mind that the Marquise must have influenced her daughter to that end perhaps

"Did there appear to be any signs of disagreement between them?" was his next question.

"The younger one did not by any chance inquire of you whether it would be possible to hire a berline?" asked

"No," the landlord answered him, with wondering eyes. "She appeared as anxious as her mother for the

La Boulaye stood a moment in thought, his brows drawn together, his breathing seeming suspended, for into

his soul a suspicion had of a sudden been thrust a hideous suspicion. Abruptly he drew himself up to the

"Very well," he answered. "Saddle me one at once, and have the other seven ready for my men as soon as

And whilst the host sent the ostler to execute the order, Caron called for a cup of wine and a crust of bread.

Munching his crust he entered the commonroom where his men were at table with a steaming ragout before

"Garin," he said to the corporal, "in a halfhour the landlord will be able to provide you with fresh horses.

You will set out at once to follow me along the road to Liege. I am starting immediately."

Garin, with the easy familiarity of the Republican soldier, bade him take some thought of his exhausted

condition, and snatch at least the halfhour's rest that was to be theirs. But La Boulaye was out of the room

before he had finished. A couple of minutes later they heard a clatter of departing hoofs, and La Boulaye was

"Of what are you thinking, little fool?" asked the Marquise peevishly, her fat face puckered into a hundred

The Marquise sniffed contemptuously, and glanced through the window of the coach upon the dreary, rain

"Do you call the sometime secretary Citizencutthroat La Boulaye, nothing in particular?" she asked. "Ma

foi! I wonder that you do not die of selfcontempt after what passed between you at Boisvert."

"More shame to you, then," was the sour retort, for the Marquise was bent upon disagreeing with her. "Have

you a conscience, Suzanne, that you could have played such a Delilah part and never give a thought to the

"You are ready enough to regret anything but the act itself. Perhaps you'll be regretting that you did not take a

berline at Soignies, as you promised the citizenscoundrel that you would, and set out to join him?"

"It is hardly generous to taunt me so, Madame, I do very bitterly regret what has taken place. But you might

do me the justice to remember that what I did I did as much for others as for myself. As much, indeed, for

"For me?" echoed the Marquise shrilly. "Tiens, that is droll now! For me? Was it for me that you made love

to the citizenblackguard? Are you so dead to shame that you dare remind me of it?"

Mademoiselle sighed, and seemed to shrink back into the shadows of the carriage. Her face was very pale,

"It is something that to my dying day I shall regret,"she murmured. "It was vile, it was unworthy! Yet if I had

not used the only weapon to my hand " She ceased, the Marquise caught the sound of a sob.

"As much as anything for what he must think of me when he realises how shamefully I have used him."

"And does it matter what the canaille thinks? Shall it matter what the citizenassassin thinks?"

"A little, Madame," she sighed. "He will despise me as I deserve. I almost wish that I could undo it, and go

back to that little room at Boisvert. the prisoner of that fearful man, Tardivet, or else that " Again she

"Or else that what?" she demanded. "Ma foi, it only remains that you should wish you had kept your promise

"You talk as if you were a man," said her mother; "as if your word was a thing that bound you. It is a

"You shall not call him that," was the rejoinder, sharply delivered; for Suzanne was roused at last. "He is

twenty times more noble and brave than any gentleman, that I have ever met. We owe our liberty to him at

"Fool, what are you saying?" cried the enraged Marquise. "He, more noble and brave than any gentleman that

you ever met? He this kennelbred citizenruffian of a revolutionist? Are you mad, girl, or " The

Marquise paused a moment and took a deep breath that was as a gasp of sudden understanding. "Is it that you

"Well?" demanded Madame de Bellecour severely. "Answer me, Suzanne. Are you in love with this La

"Is there the need to answer?" quoth the girl scornfully. "Surely you forget that I am Mademoiselle de

Bellecour, daughter of the Marquise de Bellecour, and that this man is of the canaille, else you had never

With an expression of satisfaction the Marquise was sinking back in the carriage, when of a sudden she sat

"Someone is riding very desperately," she cried, a note of alarm ringing in her voice.

Above the thud of the coachhorses' hoofs and the rumble of their vehicle sounded now the clatter of

someone galloping madly in their wake. Mademoiselle looked from the window into the gathering dusk.

"It will be some courier, Madame," she answered calmly. "None other would ride at such a pace."

"I shall know no rest until we are safely in a Christian country again," the Marquise complained.

The hoofbeats grew nearer, and the dark figure of a horseman dashed suddenly past the window.

The Marquise clutched at her daughter's arm with one hand, whilst with the other she crossed herself, as

"Mon Dieu!" cried Mademoiselle, who had recognised the voice that was now haranguing the men on the box

"La Boulaye?"echoed the Marquise. Then, in a frenzy of terror: "There are the pistols there, Suzanne," she

The girl's lips came tightly together until her mouth seemed no more than a straight line. Her cheeks grew

white as death, but her eyes were brave and resolute. She put forth her hand and seized one of the pistols as

An instant later the door was dragged open, and La Boulaye stood bowing in the rain with mock

ceremoniousness and a very contemptuous smile on his stern mouth. He had dismounted, and flung the reins

of his horse over the bough of a tree by the roadside. The Marquise shuddered at sight of him, and sought to

"Citoyenne," he was saying, very bitterly, "when I made my compact with you yesternight, I did not reckon

upon being compelled to ride after you in this fashion. I have some knowledge of the ways of your people, of

their full words and empty deeds; but you I was fool enough to trust. By experience we learn. I must ask you

"To what purpose, Monsieur?" she asked, in a voice which she strove to render cold and steady.

"To the purpose that your part of the bargain be carried out. Your mother and your treasure were to find their

"It was a bargain of coercion, Monsieur," she answered attempting to brazen it out. "I was a woman in a

"Surely your memory is at fault, Citoyenne," he answered, with a politeness that was in itself a mockery.

"Your situation was so little desperate that I had offered to effect the rescue both of your mother and yourself

without asking any guerdon. Your miserable treasure alone it was that had to be sacrificed. You will recall

There was a pause, during which he stood waiting for her reply. Her blue eyes made an attempt to meet his

steady gaze, but failed. Her bosom rose and fell in the intensity of her agitation.

"I was a woman distraught, Monsieur. Surely you will not hold me to words uttered in an hour of madness. It

was a bargain I had no right to make, for I am no longer free to dispose of myself. I am betrothed to the

Vicomte Anatole d'Ombreval. The contract has already been signed, and the Vicomte will be meeting us at

It was as if she had struck him, and amazement left him silent a moment. In a dim, subconscious way he

seemed to notice that the name she mentioned was that of the man he was bidden to arrest. Then, with an

"I care naught for that," he cried. "As God lives, you shall fulfil your word to me."

"Monsieur, I refuse," she answered, with finality. "Let me request you to close the door and suffer us to

"Your mother and your treasure may proceed it was thus we bargained. But you shall come with me. I will

When he said that he uttered the full truth. There was no love in his voice or in his heart at that moment. Than

desire of her nothing was further from his mind. It was his pride that was up in arms, his wounded dignity

that cried out to him to avenge himself upon her, and to punish her for having no miserably duped him. That

she was unwilling to go with him only served to increase his purpose of taking her, since the more unwilling

"Monsieur, I am very well as I am," she answered him, and leaning slightly from the coach "Drive on,

"Drive so much as a yard," he threatened. "and I'll drive you to the devil." Then, turning once more to

Suzanne: "Never in my life, Citoyenne have I employed force to a woman," he said. "I trust that you will not

"Stand back, Monsieur," was her imperious answer. But heedless he advanced, and thrusting his head under

the lintel of the carriage door he leaned forward, to seize her. Then, before he could so much as conjecture

what she was about, her hand went up grasping a heavy horsepistol by the barrel, and she brought the butt of

He reeled backwards, threw up his arms, and measured his length in the thick grey mud of the road.

Her eyes had followed him with a look of horror, and until she saw him lying still on his back did she seem to

"My dear, brave girl," murmured her mother's voice but she never heard it. With a sob she relaxed her grasp

But without answering him she had stepped down into the mud, and was standing bareheaded in the rain

Silently, she stooped and groped for his heart. It was beating vigorously enough, she thought. She stooped

lower and taking him under the arms, she half bore, half dragged him to the side of the road, as if the thin,

bare hedge were capable of affording him shelter. There she stood a moment looking down at him. Then with

a sob she suddenly stooped, and careless of the eyes observing her, she kissed him full upon the mouth.

A second later she fled like a frightened thing back to the carriage, and, closing the door, she called in a

She paid little heed to the praise that was being bestowed upon her by her mother who had seen nothing of

the kiss. But she lay back in her corner of the coach, and now her lashes were wet at the thought of Caron

lying out there in the road. Now her cheeks grew red with shame at the thought that she, the noblyborn

Mademoiselle de Bellecour, should have allowed even pity to have so far overcome her as to have caused her

It was well for La Boulaye that he had tethered his horse to a tree before approaching the coach. That solitary

beast standing by the roadside in the deepening gloom attracted the attention of his followers, when a

halfhour or so later they rode that way, making for Liege, as La Boulaye had bidden them.

At their approach the animal neighed, and Garin, hearing the sound, reined in and peered forward into the

gloom, to descry the horse's head and back outlined above the blur of the hedge. His men halted behind him

whilst he approached the riderless beast and made as well as he could in the darkness an examination of

the saddle. One holster he found empty, at which he concluded that the rider, whoever he had been, had met

with trouble; from the other he drew a heavy pistol, which, however, gave him no clue.

"Get down," he ordered his men," and search the roads hereabouts. I'll wager a horse to a horseshoe that you

He was obeyed, and presently a cry from one of the searchers announced a discovery. It was succeeded by

In an instant Garin had leapt to the ground and with the others crowding about him, their bridles over their

arms and their horses in a bunch behind them, he was bending under the dripping hedge to examine the body

that lay supine in the sodden road. A vigorous oath escaped him when he assured himself that it was indeed

"No not dead" grumbled the corporal. "But there is a lump on his brow the size of an egg, and God knows

They had no restoratives, and the only thing was to convey him to the nearest habitation and demand shelter.

They held a short council on the matter, and in the end Garin bade four of them take him up and carry him in

a cloak. Some two miles back they had passed a house, and thither the corporal now bade them retrace their

steps. They made an odd procession; first went two mounted troopers leading the horses of the others, then

the four on foot, carrying the Deputy in a cloak, and lastly, Garin riding in the rear.

In this manner they went back along the dark road, and for close upon a halfhour for their progress was

slow they trudged along in silence. At last there was a short exclamation from one of the riders, as half a

mile away an illuminated window beamed invitingly. Encouraged by it, they quickened their steps a little.

But almost at the same time La Boulaye stirred on the cloak, and the men who carried him heard him speak.

It was Garin's voice that came instantly to reassure him. Caron essayed to sit up, but finding it impracticable,

he shortly bade his men set him down. They halted. Garin dismounted and came to the Deputy's side, and it

was found that his condition was none so grave after all, for he was able to stand unaided. When, however, he

attempted to walk, he reeled, and would of a certainty have fallen, but that Garin put out his arm to support

La Boulaye, however, would listen to no reason. With the recovery of his faculties came the consideration of

how miserably Suzanne had duped him, and of how she had dealt with him when he had overtaken her. He

burned now to be avenged, and at all costs he would ride after and recapture her. He announced, therefore, to

the corporal that they must push on to Liege. Garin gasped at his obstinacy, and would have sought to have

dissuaded him, but that La Boulaye turned on him with a fierceness that silenced his expostulations.

It was left to Nature to enforce what Garin could not achieve. When La Boulaye came to attempt to mount he

found it impossible. He was stiff and numb from his long exposure in the rain, and when he moved with any

At last he was forced to realise with inward girding that he must relinquish his determination, and he

acknowledged himself ready to take the corporal's advice and make for the house whose lighted window

shone like a beacon in the darkness that had descended. He even allowed them to prevail upon him to lie

down in the cloak again, and thus they carried him the remainder of the way. In his heart he still bore the

hope that short rest, restoratives, and fresh clothes would fit him for the pursuit once more, and that if he set

out within the next few hours he might yet come up with Mademoiselle before she had passed beyond his

reach. Should the morning still find him unequal to the task of going after her, he would despatch Garin and

At last they reached the cottage it was little more and Garin rapped on the door with his whip. It was

opened by a woman, who told them, in answer to the corporal's request for shelter, that her husband was from

home, and that she had no accommodation for them. It would seem that the woman had housed soldiers of the

Republic before, and that her experiences had not been of a nature calculated to encourage her in the practice.

But La Boulaye now staggered forward and promised her generous payment if she would receive them.

"Payment?" she cried. "In worthless assignats that nobody will take from me. I know the ways of you."

And having mollified her somewhat with that assurance, he proceeded to urge her to admit them. Yonder was

a shed where the horses could be stabled for the night. But still the woman demurred.

"But at least," put in Garin, "you could house the Citizen here. He has been hurt, and he is scarcely able to

stand. Come, woman, if you will consent to that, we others can lie with the horses in the shed."

This in the end they gained by renewed promises of good payment. She brewed a broth for them, and for La

Boulaye she found a suit of her absent husband's clothes, whilst his own wet garments were spread to dry

before the fire. Some brandy, too, she found and brought him, and the draught did much to restore him.

When they had supped, Garin and the troopers withdrew to the outhouse, leaving La Boulaye in sole

possession of the cottage hearth. And there, in a suit of the absent farmer's grey homespun, his legs encased

in coarse woollen stockings and sabots upon his feet, sat the young Deputy alone with his unpleasant

thoughts. The woman had brought him a pipe, and, although the habit was foreign to him as a rule, he had

lighted it and found the smoking somewhat soothing. Ruefully he passed his hand across his bandaged brow,

and in pondering over all that had taken place since yesternight at Boisvert, his cheeks grew flushed at once

And now his mind growing clearer as he recovered in vigour it occurred to him that by tomorrow it

would be too late to give pursuit. Once she crossed the Sambre at Liege, or elsewhere, who could tell him by

what road she would elect to continue her journey? He had not sufficient men at his disposal to send out

parties along each of the possible roads. That her ultimate destination was Treves he knew. But once there

He sat on and thought, what time his brows came closer together and his teeth fastened viciously upon the

stem of the pipe. By the table sat the woman, knitting industriously, and ever and anon glancing inquiry at her

stern, thoughtful guest, and the click of her needles was the only sound that disturbed the stillness of the

room. Outside the wind was wailing like the damned, and the rain which had recommenced with new vigour,

Suddenly above the din of the elements a shout sounded in the night. The Deputy raised his head, and glanced

towards the woman. A moment later they heard the gate creak, and steps upon the path that led to the cottage

"No, monsieur. He has gone to Liege, and will not return until tomorrow. I do not know who it can be."

"At least you are well protected, Citoyenne. My men are close at hand, and we can summon them if there be

Reassured she rose, and at the same moment a knock sounded on the door. She went to open it, and from his

seat by the hearth La Boulaye heard a gentle, mincing voice that was oddly familiar to him.

"Madame," it said, "we are two poor, lost wayfarers, and we crave shelter for the night. We will pay you

"I am desolated that I have no room, Messieur," she answered, with courteous firmness.

"Pardi!" interpolated another voice. "We need no room. A bundle of straw and a corner is all we seek. Of

A light of recollection leaped suddenly to La Boulaye's eyes, and with a sudden gasp he stooped to the hearth.

"But I cannot, Messieurs," the woman was saying, when the second voice interrupted her.

The woman coloured to the roots of her hair. She stepped back a pace, and was about to answer them when,

chancing to glance in La Boulaye's direction, she paused. He had risen, and was standing with his back to the

fire. There was a black smudge across his face, which seemed to act as a mask, and his dark eyes glowed with

an intensity of meaning which arrested her attention, and silenced the answer which was rising to her lips.

In the brief pause the newcomers had crossed the threshold, and stood within the rustic chamber. The first of

these was he whose gentle voice La Boulaye had recognised old M. des Cadoux, the friend of the Marquis

de Bellecour. His companion, to the Deputy's vast surprise, was none other than the bearded courier who had

that morning delivered him at Boisvert the letter from Robespierre. What did these two together, and upon

"Come in, Messieurs," he bade them, assuming the role of host. "We are unused to strangers, and Mathilde

there is timid of robbers. Draw near the fire and dry yourselves. We will do the best we can for you. We are

"I have already said that we will pay you handsomely my friend," quoth Des Cadoux, coming forward with

his companion. "Do your best for us and you shall not regret it. Have you aught to eat in the house?"

The woman was standing by the wall, her face expressing bewilderment and suspicion. Suspicious she was,

yet that glance of La Boulaye's had ruled her strangely, and she was content to now await developments.

"We will see what we can do," answered La Boulaye, as he made room for them by the hearth. "Come,

La Boulaye laughed for answer as he gently but firmly drew her towards the door leading to the interior of

the house. He held it for her to pass, what time his eyes were set in an intent but puzzled glance upon the

courier. There was something about the man that was not wholly strange to La Boulaye. That morning, when

he had spoken in the gruff accents of one of the rabble, no suspicion had entered the Deputy's mind that he

was other than he seemed, for all that he now recalled how Tardivet had found the fellow's patriotism a little

too patriotic. Now that he spoke in the voice that was naturally usual to him, it seemed to La Boulaye that it

Still puzzled, he passed out of the room to be questioned sharply by the woman of the house touching his

motives for passing himself off as her husband and inviting the newcomers to enter.

"I promise you their stay will be a very brief one," he answered. "I have suspicions to verify the ends to serve,

as you shall see. Will you do me the favour to go out by the back and call my men? Tell the corporal to make

his way to the front of the house, and to hold himself in readiness to enter the moment I call him."

"What are you about to do?" she asked and the face, as he saw it by the light of the candle she held, wore an

He reassured her that there would be no bloodshed, and suggested that the men were dangerous characters

whom it might be ill for her to entertain. And so at last he won his way, and she went to do his errand, whilst

He found Des Cadoux by the fire, intent upon drying as much of himself as possible. The younger man had

seized upon the bottle of brandy that had been left on the table, and was in the act of filling himself a second

glass. Nothing could be further from the mind of either than a suspicion of the identity of this rusticallyclad

"Mathilde will be here in a moment," said Caron deferentially. "She is seeking something for you."

Had he told them precisely what she was seeking they had been, possibly, less at ease.

"Have patience, Anatole," murmured the evergentle Cadoux. "The good woman did not expect us."

Anatole! The name buzzed through Caron's brain. To whom did it belong? He knew of someone who bore it.

Yet question himself though he might, he could at the moment find no answer. And then the courier created a

"For me, Monsieur," cried La Boulaye, with surprised humility. "It were too great an honour."

"Do as you are bidden, man," returned this very peremptory courier. "There; now let us see how your favour

Holding the brandyglass, which the man had forced upon him, La Boulaye eyed him whimsically for a

"There is no toast I would more gladly drink," said he at last, "if I considered it availing. But alas you

"Why, that since the King is dead, it shall profit us little to cry, 'Long Live the King!'"

"Since you put it so, Monsieur," answered La Boulaye, as if convinced, "I'll honour the toast." And with the

"And so, my honest fellow," said Des Cadoux, producing his eternal snuffbox, "it seems that you are a

"What should a poor fellow know of politics, Messieurs?" he deprecated. "These are odd times. I doubt me

the world has never seen their like. No man may safely know his neighbour. Now you, sir," he pursued,

turning to the younger man," you have the air of a sansculotte, yet from your speech you seem an honest

"The air of a sansculotte?" he cried. "My faith, yes. So much so, that this morning I imposed myself as a

courier from Paris upon no less an astute sleuthhound of the Convention than the Citizendeputy La

"Is it possible?" cried Caron, his eyes opening wide in wonder. "But how, Monsieurs? For surely a courier

"So did I, so did I, my friend," the other interrupted, with vain glory. "I knocked a patriotic courier over the

head to obtain them. He was genuine, that other courier, and I passed myself out of France with his papers."

"Monsieur is amusing himself at the expense of my credulity," La Boulaye complained.

"But how could such a thing be accomplished?" asked Caron, seating himself at the table, and resting his chin

"You'll be repeating that charming story once too often," Des Cadoux cautioned him.

"Pish, you timorous one!" he laughed, and resumed his tale. "I am from Artois, then. I have some property

there, and it lately came to my ears that this assembly of curs they call the Convention had determined to

make an end of me. But before they could carry out their design, those sons of dogs, my tenants, incited by

the choice examples set them by other tenantry, made a descent on my Chateau one night, and did themselves

the pleasure of burning it to the ground. By a miracle I escaped with my life and lay hidden for three weeks in

the house of an old peasant who had remained faithful. In that time I let my beard grow, and trained my hair

into a patriotic unkemptness. Then, in filthy garments, like any true Republican, I set out to cross the frontier.

As I approached it, I was filled with fears that I might not win across, and then, in the moment of my

doubtings, I came upon that most opportune of couriers. I had the notion to change places with him, and I did.

He was the bearer of a letter to the Deputy La Boulaye, of whom you may have heard, and this letter I opened

If La Boulaye was startled, his face never betrayed it, not by so much as the quiver of an eyelid. He sat on, his

"You may judge of my honesty, and of how fully sensible I was of the trust I had undertaken, when I tell you

that with my own hand I delivered the letter this morning to that animal La Boulaye at Boisvert." He seemed

to swell with pride in his achievement. "Diable!" he continued. "Mine was a fine piece of acting. I would you

could have seen me play the part of the patriot. Think of the irony of it! I won out of France with the very

papers ordering my arrest. Ma foi! You should have seen me befool that dirt of a deputy! It was a

performance worthy of Talma himself." And he looked from Cadoux to La Boulaye for applause.

"I doubt not," said the Deputy coldly. "It must have been worth witnessing. But does it not seem a pity to

spoil everything and to neutralise so wonderful an achievement for the mere sake of boasting of it to a poor,

With a sudden cry, the pseudo courier leapt to his feet, whilst Des Cadoux turned on the stool he occupied to

With his sleeve La Boulaye rubbed part of the disfiguring smear from his face as he stood up and made

"I am that dirt of a Deputy whom you befooled at Boisvert." Then, raising his voice, "Garin!" he shouted, and

Ombreval stood like a statue, thunderstruck with amazement at this most unlookedfor turning of the tables,

Des Cadoux, who had also risen, seemed to take in the situation at a glance. Like a wellbred gamester who

knows how to lose with a good grace the old gentleman laughed drily to himself as he tapped his snuffbox.

"We are delightfully taken, cher Vicomte," he murmured, applying the tobacco to his nostril as he spoke. "It's

odds you won't be able to repeat that pretty story to any more of your friends. I warned you that you inclined

With a sudden oath, Ombreval moved to valour by the blind rage that possessed him sprang at La

"Remove them both," La Boulaye commanded. "Place them in safety for the night, and see that they do not

"For my part, I am ready, Monsieur your pardon Citizen," he said, "and I shall give you no trouble. But

since I am not, I take it, included in the orders you have received, I have a proposal to make which may prove

"It occurs to me that it may occasion you some measure of annoyance to carry me all the way to Paris and

certainly, for my part, I should much prefer not to undertake the journey. For one thing, it will be fatiguing,

for another, I have no desire to look upon the next world through the little window of the guillotine. I wish,

then, to propose, Citizen," pursued the old nobleman, nonchalantly dusting some fragments of tobacco from

"Why, your men, I take it are tolerable marksmen. I think that it might prove more convenient to both of us if

La Boulaye's eyes rested in almost imperceptible kindness upon Des Cadoux. Here, at least, was an aristocrat

"But possibly, Citizen, it may be yours to avoid both. You shall hear from me in the morning. I beg that you

For fully an hour after their prisoners had been removed La Boulaye paced the narrow limits of the kitchen

with face inscrutable and busy mind. He recalled what Suzanne had said touching her betrothal to Ombreval,

whom she looked to meet at Treves. This miserable individual, then, was the man for whose sake she had

duped him. But Ombreval at least was in Caron's power, and it came to him now that by virtue of that

circumstance he might devise a way to bring her back without the need to go after her. He would send her

word aye, and proof that he had taken him captive, and it should be hers to choose whether she would

come to his rescue and humble herself to save him or leave him to his fate. In that hour it seemed all one to

La Boulaye which course she followed, since by either, he reasoned, she must be brought to suffer. That he

loved her was with him now a matter that had sunk into comparative insignificance. The sentiment that ruled

And when morning came the Deputy's view of the situation was still unchanged. He was astir at an early

hour, and without so much as waiting to break his fast, he bade Garin bring in the prisoners. Their appearance

was in each case typical. Ombreval was sullen and his dress untidy, even when allowance had been made for

the inherent untidiness of the Republican disguise which he had adopted to so little purpose. Des Cadoux

looked well and fresh after his rest, and gave the Deputy an airy "Good morning" as he entered. He had been

at some pains, too, with his toilet, and although his hair was slightly disarranged and most of the powder was

gone from the right side, suggesting that he had lain on it, his appearance in the main was creditably elegant.

"Citizen Ombreval," said La Boulaye, in that stern, emotionless voice that was becoming characteristic of

him, "since you have acquainted yourself with the contents of the letter you stole from the man you

"For your intentions I care nothing," he answered hotly rendered very brave by passion "but I will have

you consider your words. Do you say that I stole and murdered? You forget, M. le Republican, that I am a

"Meaning, of course, that the class that so described itself could do these things with impunity without having

them called by their proper names, is it not so? But you also forget that the Republic has abolished

"Citizenaristocrat, consider your words!" La Boulaye had stepped close up to him, and his voice throbbed

with a sudden anger no whit less compelling than Ombreval's. "Fool! let me hear that word again, applied

And as the lesser ever does give way before the greater, so now did the anger that had sustained Ombreval go

down and vanish before the overwhelming passion of La Boulaye. He grew pale to the lips at the Deputy's

"You deserve little consideration at my hands, Citizen," said La Boulaye, more quietly," and yet I have a

mind to give you a lesson in generosity. We start for Paris in halfanhour. If anywhere you should have

friends expecting you, whom you might wish to apprise of your position, you may spend the halfhour that is

Ombreval's pallor seemed to intensify. His eyes looked troubled as they were raised to La Boulaye's. Then

"I shall be glad to avail myself of your offer," he said, in a voice that for meekness was ludicrously at

"Then pray do so at once." And La Boulaye took down an inkhorn a quill, and a sheaf of paper from the

mantelshelf behind him. These he placed on the table, and setting a chair, he signed to the aristocrat to be

"And now, Citizen Cadoux," said La Boulaye, turning to the old nobleman, "I shall be glad if you will honour

"I have decided," said La Boulaye, with the ghost of a smile, "to deal with your case myself, Citizen."

The old dandy took a deep breath, but the glance of his blue eyes was steadfast, and his lips smiled as he

"Again you are too good. I feared that you would carry me to Paris, and at my age the journey is a tiresome

one. I am grateful, and meanwhile, why, since you are so good as to invite me, let us breakfast, by all

They sat down at a small table in the embrasure of the window, and their hostess placed before them a boiled

fowl, a dish of eggs, a stew of herbs, and a flask of red wine, all of which La Boulaye had bidden her prepare.

"Why, it is a feast," declared Des Cadoux, in excellent humour, and for all that he was under the impression

that he was to die in halfanhour he ate with the heartiest goodwill, chatting pleasantly the while with the

Republican the first Republican with whom it had ever been his aristocratic lot to sit at table. And what

time the meal proceeded Ombreval with two soldiers standing behind his chairpenned his letter to

Had La Boulaye inspired by the desire to avenge himself for the treachery of which he had been the victim

dictated that epistle, t could not have been indicted in a manner better suited to his ends. It was a maudlin,

piteous letter, in which, rather than making his farewells, the Vicomte besought the aid of Suzanne. He was,

he wrote, in the hands of men who might be bribed, and since she was rich for he knew of the treasure with

which she had escaped he based his hopes upon her employing a portion of her riches to obtaining his

enlargement. She, he continued, was his only hope, and for the sake of their love, for the sake of their

common nobility, he besought her not to fail him now. Carried away by the piteousness of his entreaties the

tears welled up to his eyes and trickled down his cheeks, one or two of them finding their way to the paper

thus smearing it with an appeal more piteous still if possible than that of his maudlin words.

At last the letter was ended. He sealed it with a wafer and wrote the superscription:

He announced the completion of his task, and La Boulaye bade him go join Des Cadoux at the next table and

take some food before setting out, whilst the Deputy himself now sat down to write.

"Citoyenne,' he wrote, "the man to whom you are betrothed, for whose sake you stooped to treachery and

attempted murder, is in my hands. Thus has Heaven set it in my power to punish you, if the knowledge that

he travels to the guillotine is likely to prove a punishment. If you would rescue him, come to me in Paris, and,

That, he thought should humble her. He folded his letter round Ombreval's and having sealed the package, he

When he had been obeyed, and Garin had conducted the Vicomte from the room, La Boulaye turned again to

The old man rose, and making the sign of the cross, he stepped forward, calm and intrepid of bearing.

"Monsieur," he announced to La Boulaye, who was eyeing him with the faintest tinge of surprise, "I am quite

"Alas! no Monsieur. But there comes a time in the life of every man when, for a few moments at least, he is

The surprise increased in La Boulaye's countenance. At last he shrugged his shoulders, after the manner of

"Citizen des Cadoux," said he, "I have deliberated that since I have received no orders from Paris concerning

you, and also since I am not by profession a catchpoll there is no reason whatever why I should carry you to

Paris. In fact, Citizen, I know of no reason why I should interfere with your freedom at all. On the contrary

when I recall the kindness you sought to do me that day, years ago, at Bellecour, I find every reason why I

should further your escape from the Revolutionary tribunal. A horse, Citizen, stands ready saddled for you,

and you are free to depart, with the one condition, however, that you will consent to become my courier for

once, and carry a letter for me a matter which should occasion you, I think, no deviation from your

The old dandy, in whose intrepid spirit the death which he had believed imminent had occasioned no

trembling, turned pale as La Boulaye ceased. His blue eyes were lifted almost timidly to the Deputy's face,

"Shot?" echoed La Boulaye, and then he remembered the precise words of the request which Des Cadoux had

preferred the night before, but which, at the time, he had treated lightly. "Ma foi, you do not flatter me!" he

cried. "Am I a murderer, then? Come, come, Citizen, here is the letter that you are to carry. It is addressed to

Mademoiselle de Bellecour, at Treves, and encloses Ombreval's farewell epistle to that lady."

And then, as if to cover his sudden access of emotion, of which he was most heartily ashamed, he fumbled for

They parted on the very best of terms did these two the aristocrat and the Revolutionary actuated by a

When at last Des Cadoux had taken a sympathetic leave of Ombreval and departed, Caron ordered the

Vicomte to be brought before him again, and at the same time bade his men make ready for the road.

"Citizen," said La Boulaye, "we start for Paris at once. If you will pass me your word of honour to attempt no

Ombreval looked at him with insolent surprise, his weak supercilious mouth growing more supercilious even

"Pass you my word of honour?" he echoed. "Mon Dieu! my good fellow a word of honour is a bond between

gentlemen. I think too well of mine to pass it to the first greasy rascal of the Republic that asks it of me."

La Boulaye eyed him a second with a glance before which the aristocrat grew pale, and already regretted him

"I warned you," said he, in a dull voice. Then to the soldiers standing on either side of Ombreval "Take him

out," he said, "mount him on horseback. Let him ride with his hands pinioned behind his back, and his feet

"Monsieur," cried the young man, in an appealing voice," I will give you my word of honour not to escape. I

"Take him out," La Boulaye repeated, with a dull bark of contempt. "You had your chance,

They obeyed, and now this wretched Vicomte, of such unstable spirit dropped all his anger again, as suddenly

as he had caught it up. Fear paled his cheek and palsied his limbs once more, for La Boulaye's expression was

"You know what I said that I would have done to you if you used that word again?" La Boulaye questioned

"I I was beside myself, Monsieur," the other gasped, in the intensity of his fear. And at the sight of his

pitiable condition the anger fell away from La Boulaye, and he smiled scornfully.

"My faith," he sneered. "You are hot one moment and cold the next. Citizen, I am afraid that you are no better

than a vulgar coward. Take him away," he ended, waving his hand towards the door, and as he watched them

leading him out he reflected bitterly that this was the man to whom Suzanne was betrothed the man whom,

not a doubt of it, she loved, since for him she had stooped so low. This miserable craven she preferred to him,

In his lodgings at the corner of the RueSt. Honore and the Rue de la Republique lately changed, in the

allencompassing metamorphosis, from "Rue Royale" sat the Deputy Caron La Boulaye at his writingtable.

There was a flush on his face and a sparkle in the eyes that looked pensively before him what time he gnawed

the feathered end of his quill. In his ears still rang the acclamations that had greeted his brilliant speech in the

Assembly that day. He was of the party of the Mountain as was but natural in a protege of the Seagreen

Robespierre a party more famed for its directness of purpose than elegance of expression, and in its ranks

there was room and to spare for such orators as he. The season was March of '93 a season marked by the

deadly feud raging 'twixt the Girondins and the Mountain, and in that battle of tongues La Boulaye was

covering himself with glory and doing credit to his patron, the Incorruptible. He was of a rhetoric not inferior

to Vergniaud's that most eloquent Girondon and of a quickness of wit and honesty of aim unrivalled in

the whole body of the Convention, and with these gifts he harassed to no little purpose those smoothtongued

legislators of the Gironde, whom Dumouriez called the Jesuits of the Revolution. His popularity with the men

of the Mountain and with the masses of Paris was growing daily, and the crushing reply he had that day

delivered to the charges preferred by Vergniaud was likely to increase his fame.

Well, therefore, might he sit with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes chewing the butt of his pen and smiling

to himself at the memory of the enthusiasm of which he had been the centre a halfhour ago. Here, indeed,

was something that a man might live for, something that a man might take pride in, and something that might

console a man for a woman's treachery. What, indeed, could woman's love give him that might compare with

this? Was it not more glorious far to make himself the admired, the revered, the very idol of those stern men,

than the beloved of a simpering girl? The latter any coxcomb with a wellcut coat might encompass, but the

And yet, for all that he reasoned thus speciously and philosophically, there was a moment when his brow

grew clouded and his eyes lost their sparkle. He was thinking of that night in the inn at Boisvert, when he had

knelt beside her and she had lied to him. He was thinking of the happiness, that for a few brief hours had been

his, until he discovered how basely she had deceived him, and for all the fullflavour of his present elation it

seemed to him that in that other happiness which he now affected to despise by contrast, there had dwelt a

Would she come to Paris? He had asked himself that question every day of the twenty that were spent since

his return. And in the meantime the Vicomte d'Ombreval lay in the prison of the Luxembourg awaiting trial.

That he had not yet been arraigned he had to thank the efforts of La Boulaye. The young Deputy had

informed Robespierre that for reasons of his own he wished the cidevant Vicomte, to be kept in prison some

little time, and the Incorruptible, peering at him over his hornrimmed spectacles, had shrugged his shoulders

"But certainly, cher Caron, since it is your wish. He will be safe in the Luxembourg."

He had pressed his protege for a reason, but La Boulaye had evaded the question, promising to enlighten him

Since then Caron had waited, and now it was more than time that Mademoiselle made some sign. Or was it

that neither Ombreval's craven entreaties nor his own short message had affected her? Was she wholly

heartless and likely to prove as faithless to the Vicomte in his hour of need as she had proved to him?

With a toss of the head he dismissed her from his thoughts, and dipping his quill, he began to write.

>From the street came the dull roll of beaten drums and the rhythmical fall of marching feet. But the sound

was too common in revolutionary Paris to arrest attention, and he wrote on, heeding it as little as he did the

gruff voice of a pastrycook crying his wares, the shriller call of a milkman, or the occasional rumblings of

passing vehicles. But of a sudden one of those rumblings ceased abruptly at his door. He heard the rattle of

hoofs and the grind of the wheel against the pavement, and looking up, he glanced across at the ormolu

Wondering whether the visitor might be for him or for the tenant of the floor above, he sat listening until his

door opened and his official the euphemism of "servant" in the revolutionary lexicon came to announce

Now for all that he believed himself to have become above emotions where Mademoiselle de Bellecour was

concerned, he felt his pulses quicken at the very thought that this might be she at last.

"A pretty woman, Citizen," answered Brutus, with a grin. "It is the Citoyenne Deshaix."

"Fool, you did not ask me," answered the servant, with that touching, fraternal frankness adopted by all true

patriots. He was a thin, undersized man of perhaps thirty years of age, and dressed in black, with a decency

under La Boulaye's suasion that was rather at variance with his extreme democracy. His real name was

Ferdinand, but, following a fashion prevailing among the ultrarepublicans, he had renamed himself after the

And presently she came, a pretty woman, as Brutus had declared, very fair, and with the innocent eyes of a

baby. She was small of stature, and by the egregious height of her plumecrowned headdress it would seem

as if she sought by art to add to the inches she had received from Nature. For the rest she wore a pink

petticoat, very extravagantly beflounced, and a pink corsage cut extravagantly low. In one hand she carried a

fan hardly as a weapon against heat, seeing that the winter was not yet out in the other a huge bunch of

"Te voile!" was her greeting, merrily roguishly delivered, and if the Revolution had done nothing else for

her, it had, at least, enabled her to address La Boulaye by the "Thou" of intimacy which the new vocabulary

La Boulaye rose, laid aside his pen, and politely, if coolly, returned her greeting and set a chair for her.

"You are," said he, "a very harbinger of Spring, Citoyenne, with your flowers and your ravishing toilette."

"Ah! I please you, then, for once," said she without the least embarrassment. "Tell me how do you find

me?" And, laughing, she turned about that he might admire her from all points of view.

He looked at her gravely for a moment, so gravely that the laughter began to fade from her eyes.

"I find you charming, Citoyenne," he answered at last. "You remind me of Diana."

"Compliments?" quoth she, her eyebrows going up and her eyes beaming with surprise and delight.

"Compliments from La Boulaye! But surely it is the end of the world. Tell me, mon ami," she begged,

"In the scantiness of your raiment, Citoyenne," he answered acidly. "It sorts better with Arcadia than with

Her eyebrows came down, her cheeks flushed with resentment and discomfiture. To cover this she flung her

roses among the papers of his writingtable, and dropping into a chair she fanned herself vigorously.

"Citoyenne, you relieve my anxieties," said he. "I feared that you stood in danger of freezing."

"To freeze is no more than one might expect in your company," she answered, stifling her anger.

He made no reply. He moved to the window, and stood drumming absently on the panes. He was inured to

these invasions on the part of Cecile Deshaix and to the bold, unwomanly advances that repelled him.

Today his patience with her was even shorter than its wont, haply because when his official had announced

a woman he had for a moment permitted himself to think that it might be Suzanne. The silence grew

"Yes," said she, and for all that there was chagrin to spare in the glance with which she admired the back of

his straight and shapely figure, she contrived to render her voice airily indifferent. "We were at the play last

"We live in a free world, Citizen. Freedom is our motto. Is it for nothing that we are Republicans?"

"Freedom of action begets freedom of words," said he, "and freedom of words leads to freedom of criticism

and that is a thing to which no wise woman will expose herself, no matter under what regime we live. You

"But you never come to us, Caron," she returned, in a voice of mild complaint. "You have not been once to

Duplay's since your return from Belgium. And you seem different, too, since your journey to the army." She

rose now and approached him. "What is it, cher Caron?" she asked, her voice a very caress of seductiveness,

A wave of red seemed to sweep across her face, and her heel beat the parquet floor.

He looked down at her, and she had the feeling that behind the inscrutable mask of his countenance he was

She felt in that moment that she hated him, and it was a miracle that she did not do as she had threatened, for

with all her meek looks she owned a very fiercest of tempers. She drew back a pace or two, and her glance

"I applaud the wisdom of your resolve Cit Cecile. The world, as I have said, is censorious."

She looked at him a second, then she laughed, but it was laughter of the lips only; the eyes looked steely as

"Ough!" she gasped, and with that sudden exclamation of pentup wrath, she whisked about and went

She halted, and seemed for a second to hesitate, looking at him oddly. Then she came back to the table and

took up her roses. Again she looked at him, and let the bouquet fall back among the papers.

"I brought them for you, Caron," she said, "and I'll leave them with you. We can at least be friends, can we

"Alas! no," she said to herself, whilst aloud she murmured:" I thought that you would like them. Your room

has such a gloomy, sombre air, and a few roses seem to diffuse some of the sunshine on which they have

"You are too good, Cecile'' he answered, and, for all his coldness, he was touched a little by this

She looked up at the altered tone, and the expression of her face seemed to soften. But before she could make

"Citizen," he announced, in his sour tones," there is another woman below asking to see you."

La Boulaye started, as again his thoughts flew to Suzanne, and a dull flush crept into his pale cheeks and

mounted to his brow. Cecile's eyes were upon him, her glance hardening as she observed these signs. Bitter

enough had it been to endure his coldness whilst she had imagined that it sprang from the austerity of his

nature and the absorption of his soul in matters political. But now that it seemed she might have cause to

"Tall, pale, straight, black hair, black eyes, silk gown and savours the aristocrat a league off," answered

But La Boulaye paid no heed to her. The flush deepened on his face, then faded again, and he grew oddly

pale. His official's inventory of her characteristics fitted Mademoiselle de Bellecour in every detail.

"Admit her, Brutus," he commanded, and his voice had a husky sound. Then, turning to Cecile, "You will

"Assuredly," she answered bitterly, making shift to go. "Your visitor is no doubt political?" she halfasked

But he made no answer as he held the door for her, and bowed low as she passed out. With a white face and

lips tightly compressed she went, and halfway on the stairs she met a handsome woman, tall and of queenly

bearing, who ascended. Her toilette lacked the elaborateness of Cecile's, but she carried it with an air which

not all the modistes of France could have succeeded in imparting to the Citoyenne Deshaix.

So dead was Robespierre's niece to every sense of fitness that, having drawn aside to let the woman pass, she

stood gazing after her until she disappeared round the angle of the landing. Then, in a fury, she swept from

the house and into her waiting coach, and as she drove back to Duplay's in the Rue St. Honore she was

La Boulaye remained a moment by the door after Cecile's departure; then he moved away towards his desk,

striving to master the tumultuous throbbing of his pulses. His eye alighted on Cecile's roses, and, scarce

knowing why he did it, he picked them up and flung them behind a bookcase. It was but done when again the

Oddly enough, at sight of her, La Boulaye grew master of himself. He received her with a polite and very

"So, Citoyenne," said he, and so cold was his voice that it seemed even tinged with mockery, "you are come

"I could not come before, Monsieur," she answered, trembling. "They would not let me." Then, after a

"No," he answered her. "The cidevant Vicomte d'Ombreval still lies awaiting trial. Will you not be seated?"

"As you please, Citoyenne. I have delayed Ombreval's trial thinking that if not my letter why then his might

bring you, sooner or later, to his rescue. It may interest you to hear," he continued with an unmistakable note

of irony," that that brave but hapless gentleman is much fretted at his incarceration."

A shadow crossed her face, which remained otherwise calm and composed the beautiful, intrepid face that

"I am glad that you have waited, Monsieur. In so doing you need have no doubts concerning me. M.

d'Ombreval is my betrothed, and the troth I plighted him binds me in honour to succour him now."

"Upon my soul," he said at last, a note of ineffable sarcasm vibrating in his voice, "I shall never cease to

admire the effrontery of your class, and the coolness with which, in despite of dishonourable action, you

make highsounding talk of honour and the things to which it binds you. I have a dim recollection,

Citoyenne, of something uncommonly like your troth which you plighted me one night at Boisvert. But so

little did that promise bind you that when I sought to enforce your fulfilment of it you broke my head and left

His words shook her out of her calm. Her bosom rose and fell, her eyes seemed to grow haggard and her

"Monsieur," she answered, "when I gave you my promise that night I had every intention of keeping it. I

"Be generous, Monsieur," she begged. "It was my mother prevailed upon me to alter my determination. She

"That word again!" he cried. "What part it plays in the life of the noblesse. All that it suits you to do, you do

because honour bids you, all to which you have bound yourselves, but which is distasteful, you discover that

honour forbids, and that you would be dishonoured did you persist. But I am interrupting you, Citoyenne. Did

"The strongest argument of all lay here, in my heart, Monsieur," she answered him, roused and hardened by

his scorn. "You must see that it had become with me a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils. Upon

reflection I discovered that I was bound to two men, and it behoved me to keep the more binding of my

"Which you discovered to be your word to Ombreval," he said, and his voice grew unconsciously softer, for

"To him I had given the earlier promise, and then, again, he was of my own class whilst you "

"Spare me, Citoyenne," he cried. "I know what you would say. I am of the rabble, and of little more account

in a matter of honour than a, beast of the field. It is thus that you reason, and yet, mon Dieu! I had thought

that ere now such notions had died out with you, and that, stupid enough though your class has proved itself,

it would at least have displayed the intelligence to perceive that its day is ended, its sun set." He turned and

paced the apartment as he spoke. "The Lilies of France have been shorn from their stems, they have withered

by the roadside, and they have been trampled into the dust by the men of the new regime, and yet it seems

that you others of the noblesse have not learnt your lesson. You have not yet discovered that here in France

the man who was born a tiller of the soil is still a man, and, by his manhood, the equal of a king, who, after

all, can be no more than a man, and is sometimes less. Enfin!" he ended brusquely. "This is not the National

Assembly, and I talk to ears untutored in such things. Let us deal rather with the business upon which you are

She eyed him out of a pale face, with eyes that seemed fascinated. That short burst of the fiery eloquence that

had made him famous revealed him to her in a new light: the light of a strength and capacity above and

"Will you believe, Monsieur, that it cost me many tears to use you as I did? If you but knew " And there

she paused abruptly. She had all but told him of the kiss that she had left upon his unconscious lips that

evening on the road to Liege. "Mon Dieu how I hated myself!" And she shuddered as she spoke.

He observed all this, and with a brusqueness that was partly assumed he hastened to her rescue.

"What is done is done, Citoyenne. Come, let us leave reminiscences. You are here to atone, I take it."

"Citizen, then," she amended. "I have brought with me the gems which I told you would constitute my dowry.

His gentleness deceived her. She imagined that it meant that he might not be unwilling to accept such a bribe,

and thereupon she set herself to plead with him. He listened dispassionately, his hands behind his back, his

eyes bent upon her, yet betraying nothing of his thoughts. At last she brought her prayer for Ombreval's life

to an end, and produced a small leather bag which she set upon the table, beseeching him to satisfy himself as

Now at last he stirred. His face grew crimson to the roots of his hair, and his eyes seemed of a sudden to take

"And so, Mademoiselle de Bellecour," said he, in a concentrated voice, "you have learnt so little of me that

you bring me a bribe of gems. Am I a helot, that you should offer to buy my very soul? Do you think my

honour is so cheap a thing that you can have it for the matter of some bits of glass? Or do you imagine that

we of the new regime, because we do not mouth the word at every turn, have no such thing as honour? For

shame!" He paused, his wrath boiling over as he sought words in which to give it utterance. And then, words

failing him to express the half of what was in him, he lifted the bag high above his head, and hurled it at her

feet with a force that sent half the glittering contents rolling about the parquet floor. "Citoyenne, your journey

She recoiled before his wrath, a white and frightened thing that but an instant back had been so calm and

selfpossessed. She gave no thought to the flashing jewels scattered about the floor. Through all the fear that

now possessed her rose the consideration of this man this man whom she had almost confessed

halfshamedly to herself that she loved, that night on the Liege road; this man who at every turn amazed her

Then, bethinking her of Ombreval and of her mission, she took her courage in both hands, and, advancing a

"Monsieur, forgive me," she besought him. "I meant you no insult. How could I, when my every wish is to

propitiate you? Bethink you, Monsieur, I have journeyed all the way from Prussia to save that man, because

my hon because he is my betrothed. Remember, Monsieur, you held out to me the promise in your letter

that if I came you would treat with me, and that I might buy his life from you."

"Why, so I did," he answered, touched by her humiliation and her tears. "But you went too fast in your

"Forgive me that. See! I am on my knees to you. Am I not humbled enough? Have I not suffered enough for

"It would take the sufferings of a generation to atone for the wrongs I have endured at the hands of your

"I will do what you will, Monsieur. Bethink you that I am pleading for the life of the man I am to marry."

He looked down upon her now in an emotion that in its way was as powerful as her own. Yet his voice was

"Is that an argument, Mademoiselle? Is it an argument likely to prevail with the man who, for his

He felt that in a way she had conquered him; his career, which but that day had seemed allsufficing to him,

was now fallen into the limbo of disregard. The one thing whose possession would render his life a happy

one, whose absence would leave him now a lasting unhappiness, knelt here at his feet. Forgotten were the

wrongs he had suffered, forgotten the purpose to humble and to punish. Everything was forgotten and

silenced by the compelling voice of his blood, which cried out that he loved her. He stooped to her and

"If you would bribe me to save his life, Suzanne, there is but one price that you can pay."

"And that?" she gasped her eyes looking up with a scared expression into his masterful face.

She gazed a second at him in growing alarm, then she dragged her hands from his grasp, and covering her

"Do not misunderstand me," he cried, as he stood erect over her. "If you would have Ombreval saved and

"Your wife?" she echoed, pausing in her weeping, and for a moment an odd happiness seemed to fill her. But

as suddenly as it had arisen did she stifle it. Was she not the noble daughter of the noble Marquis de

Bellecour and was not this a lowly born member of a rabble government? There could be no such mating. A

He looked at her a moment with a glance that was almost of surprise, then, with a slight compression of the

lips and the faintest raising of the shoulders, he turned from her and strode over to the window. There was a

considerable concourse of people on their way to the Place de la Republique, for the hour of the tumbrils was

A halfdozen of those unsexed viragos produced by the Revolution, in filthy garments, red bonnets and

"Citoyenne," he said, in a composed voice," I am afraid that your journey has been in vain."

"Monsieur, you will not be so cruel as to send me away emptyhanded?" she cried, scarce knowing what she

"On what?" she echoed, and her glance vas troubled with perplexity. Then of a sudden it cleared. "On the

"Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, tossing his arms to Heaven, "a fine claim that, as I live; a fine argument by which

to induce me to place another man in your arms. I am to do it because I love you!"

They gazed at each other now, she with a glance of strained anxiety, he with the same look of

halfcontemptuous wonder. And then a creaking rumble from below attracted his attention, and he looked

round. He moved forward and threw the window wide, letting in with the March air an odd medley of sounds

"Look, Citoyenne," he said, and he pointed out the first tumbril, which was coming round the corner of the

She approached with some shrinking begotten by a suspicion of what she was desired to see.

In the street below, among a vociferating crowd of all sorts and conditions, the black deathcart moved on its

way to the guillotine. It was preceded by a company of National Guards, and followed by the drummers and

another company on foot. Within the fatal vehicle travelled three men and two women, accompanied by a

constitutional priest one of those renegades who had taken the oath imposed by the Convention. The two

women sat motionless, more like statues than living beings, their faces livid and horribly expressionless, so

numbed were their intelligences by fear. Of the men, one stood calm and dignified, another knelt at his

prayers, and was subject, therefore, to the greater portion of the gibes the mob was offering these poor

victims; the third, a very elegant gentleman in a green coat and buckskin breeches, leant nonchalantly upon

the rail of the tumbril and exchanged gibes with the people. All five of them were in the prime of life, and, by

their toilettes and the air that clung to them, belonged unmistakably to the noblesse.

One glance did Mademoiselle bestow upon that tragic spectacle, then with a shudder she drew back, her face

"That for yourself you might see," he answered pitilessly, "the road by which your lover is to journey."

"Mon Dieu!" she cried, wringing her hands, "it is horrible. Oh! You are not men, you Revolutionists. You are

"Great injustices beget great reactions. Great wrongs can only be balanced by great wrongs. For centuries the

power has lain with the aristocrats, and they have most foully abused it. For centuries the people of France

have writhed beneath the armed heel of the nobility, and their blood, unjustly and wantonly shed, has

saturated the soil until from that seed has sprung this overwhelming retribution. Now now, when it is too

late you are repenting; now, when at last some twentyfive million Frenchmen have risen with weapons in

their hands to purge the nation of you. We are no worse than were you; indeed, not so bad. It is only that we

do in a little while and, therefore, while it lasts in greater quantity what you have been doing through

"Spare me these arguments, Monsieur," she cried, recovering her spirit. "The 'whys' and 'wherefores' of it are

nothing to me. I see what you are doing, and that is enough. But," and her voice grew gentle and pleading, her

hands were held out to him, "you are good at heart, Monsieur; you are generous and you can be noble. You

will give me the life that I have come to beg of you; the life you promised me."

She looked a moment into that calm, set face, into the dark grey eyes that looked so solemn and betrayed so

"Look well down into your heart, M. La Boulaye," she answered him," and you will find how egregious is

your error. You do not love me; you love yourself, and only yourself. If you loved me you would not seek to

have me when I am unwilling. Above all things, you would desire my happiness it is ever so when we truly

love and you would seek to promote it. If, indeed, you loved me you would grant my prayer, and not torture

me as you are doing. But since you only love yourself, you minister only to yourself, and seek to win me by

She ceased, and her eyes fell before his glance, which remained riveted upon her face. Immovable he stood a

moment or two, then he turned from her with a little sigh, and leaning his elbow upon the windowsill, he

gazed down into the crowds surging about the second tumbril. But although he saw much there that was

calculated to compel attention, he heeded nothing. His thoughts were very busy, and he was doing what

Mademoiselle had bidden him. He was looking into himself. And from that questioning he gathered not only

that he loved her, but that he loved her so well and so truly that in spite even of all that was passed he

His resolve was but half taken when he heard her stirring in the room behind him. He turned sharply to find

"Mademoiselle!" he called after her. She stopped, and as she turned, he observed that her lashes were wet.

But in her heart there arose now a fresh hope, awakened by the name by which he had recalled her. "Whither

"Away, Monsieur," she answered. "I was realising that my journey had indeed been in vain."

"Mademoiselle," he said, very quietly, "your arguments have prevailed, and it shall be as you desire. The

Her face seemed to grow of a sudden paler, and for an instant she stood still as if robbed of understanding.

" aid I not that you were good and generous? Said I not that you could be noble, Monsieur?" she cried, as she

caught his resisting hand and sought to carry it to her lips. "God will bless you, Monsieur "

He drew his hand away, but without roughness. "Let us say no more, Mademoiselle," he begged.

"But I will," she answered him. "I am not without heart, Monsieur, and now that you have given me this

proof of the deep quality of your love, I " She paused, as if at a loss for words.

"I have it in my heart to wish that that it were otherwise," she said, her cheeks reddening under his gaze. "If

"Stop!" he interrupted her. He had caught at last the drift of what she was saying. "There is no need for any

"It is not comedy," she cried with heat. "It was not altogether comedy at Boisvert."

"True," he said, wilfully misunderstanding her that he might the more easily dismiss the subject," it went

She paused before replying. She still wanted to protest that some affection for him dwelt in her heart,

although curbed (to a greater extent even than she was aware) by the difference in their stations, and checked

by her plighted word to Ombreval. At last, abandoning a purpose which his countenance told her would be

"I am staying with my old nurse at Choisy," she answered him. "Henriette Godelliere is her name. She is well

known in the village, and seems in good favour with the patriots, so that I account myself safe. I am believed

"Hum!" he snorted. "The Citoyenne Godelliere's niece from the country in silks?"

"That is what someone questioned, and she answered that it was a gown plundered from the wardrobe of

"Have a care, Suzanne," said he. "The times are dangerous, and it is a matter of a week ago since a man was

lanterne for no other reason than because he was wearing gloves, which was deemed an aristocratic habit.

Come, Mademoiselle, let us gather up your gems. You were going without them some moments ago."

And down upon his knees he went, and, taking up the little bag which had been left where he had flung it, he

set himself to restore the jewels to it. She came to his assistance, in spite of his protestations, and so, within a

moment or two, the task was completed, and the little treasure was packed away in the bosom of her gown.

"Tomorrow," he said, as he took his leave of her at the door, "I shall hope to bring the cidevant Vicomte to

Choisy, and I will see that he is equipped with a laissezpasser that will carry both of you safely out of

She was beginning to thank him all over again, but he cut her short, and so they parted.

Long after she was gone did he sit at his writingtable, his head in his hands and his eyes staring straight

before him. His face looked grey and haggard; the lines that seared it were lines of pain.

"They say," he murmured once, thinking aloud, as men sometimes will in moments of great stress," that a

good action brings its own reward. Perhaps my action is not a good one, after all, and that is why I suffer."

And, burying his head in his arms, he remained thus with his sorrow until his official entered to inquire if he

It was towards noon of the following day when Caron La Boulaye presented himself at the house of Duplay,

the cabinetmaker in the Rue St. Honore, and asked of the elderly female who admitted him if he might see

A berline stood at the door, the postillion at the horses' heads, and about it there was some bustle, as if in

preparation of a departure. But La Boulaye paid no heed to it as he entered the house.

He was immediately conducted upstairs to the Incorruptible's apartment for he was too well known to so

much as need announcing. In answer to the woman's knock a gentle, almost plaintive voice from within bade

them enter, and thus was Caron ushered into the humble dwelling of the humble and ineffectivelooking

individual whose power already transcended that of any other man in France, and who was destined to

Into that unpretentious and rather closesmelling room for it was bedchamber as well as diningroom and

study stepped La Boulaye unhesitatingly, with the air of a man who is intimate with his surroundings and

assured of his welcome in them. In the righthand corner stood the bed on which the clothes were still

tumbled; in the centre of the chamber was a table all littered with the disorder of a meal partaken; on the left,

by the window, sat Robespierre at his writingtable, and from the overmantel at the back of the room a

marble counterpart of Robespierre's own head and shoulders looked down upon the newcomer. There were a

few pictures on the whitewashed walls, and a few objects of art about the chamber, but in the main it had a

comfortless air, which may in part have resulted from the fact that no fire had been lighted.

The great man tossed aside his pen, and rose as the door closed after the entering visitor. Pushing his

hornrimmed spectacles up on to his forehead he stretched out his hand to La Boulaye.

"It is you, Caron," he murmured in that plaintive voice of his. It was a voice that sorted well with the humane

man who had resigned a judgeship at Arras sooner than pass a deathsentence, but hardly so well with him

who, as Public Prosecutor in Paris, had brought some hundreds of heads to the sawdust. "I have been desiring

to congratulate you upon your victory of yesterday," he continued, "even as I have been congratulating

myself upon the fact that it was I who found you and gave you to the Nation. I feared that I might not see you

"You are leaving Paris?" asked La Boulaye, without heeding the compliments in the earlier part of the other's

"For a few days. Business of the Nation, my friend. But you let us talk of you. Do you know that I am

proud of you, cher Caron? Your eloquence turned Danton green with jealousy, and as for poor Vergniaud, it

extinguished him utterly. Ma foi! If you continue as you have begun, the day may not be far distant when you

will become the patron and I the Protege." And his weak eyes beamed pleasantly from out of that unhealthy

Outwardly he had changed little since his first coming to Paris, to represent the Third Estate of Artoise,

saving, his cheeks were grown more hollow. Upon his dress he still bestowed the same unpretentious care

that had always characterised it, which, in one of the most prominent patriots of the Mountain, amounted

almost to foppishness. Blue coat, white waistcoat, silk hose and shoes buckled with silver, gave him an

elegant exterior that must have earned him many a covert sneer from his colleagues. His sloping forehead

was crowned by a periwig, sedulously curled and powdered for all that with the noblesse this was already a

La Boulaye replied to his patron's compliments with the best grace he could command considering how full

"I may congratulate myself, Maximilien," he added, "upon my good fortune in coming before you took your

"Tut! Who talks of favours? Not you, Caron, I hope. You have but to name what you desire, and so that it lies

"There is a prisoner in the Luxembourg in whom I am interested. I seek his enlargement."

"But is that all?" cried the little man, and, without more ado, he turned to his writingtable and drew a printed

form from among the chaos of documents. "His name?" he asked indifferently, as he dipped his quill in the

"Eh?" And the arched brows drew together for an instant. "But no matter. There are enough and to spare even

"Quica?" The question rang sharp as a pistolshot, sounding the more fearful by virtue of the contrast with

the gentle tones in which Robespierre had spoken hitherto. The little man's face grew evil. "d'Ombreval?" he

cried. "But what is this man to you? It is by your favour alone that I have let him live so long, but now " He

stopped short. "What is your interest in this man?" he demanded, and the question was so fiercely put as to

suggest that it would be well for La Boulaye that he should prove that interest slight indeed.

But whatever feelings may have been swaying Caron at the moment, fear was not one of them.

"My interest in him is sufficiently great to cause me to seek his freedom at your hands," he answered, with

Robespierre eyed him narrowly for a moment, peering at him over his spectacles which he had drawn down

on to his tiptilted nose. Then the fierceness died out of his mien and manner as suddenly as it had sprung up.

He became once more the weaklooking, ineffectual man that had first greeted La Boulaye: urbane and quiet,

"I am desolated, my dear Caron, but you have asked me for the one man in the prisons of France whose life I

cannot yield you. He is from Artois, and there is an old score 'twixt him and me, 'twixt his family and mine.

They were the grands seigneurs of the land on which we were born, these Ombrevals, and I could tell you of

wrongs committed by them which would make you shudder in horror. This one shall atone in the small

measure we can enforce from him. It was to this end that I ordered you to effect his capture. Have patience,

dear Caron, and forgive me that I cannot grant your request. As I have said, I am desolated that it should be

so. Ask me, if you will, the life of any other or any dozen others and they are yours. But Ombreval must

Caron stood a moment in silent dismay. Here was an obstacle upon which he had not counted when he had

passed his word to Suzanne to effect the release of her betrothed. At all costs he must gain it, he told himself,

and to that end he now set himself to plead, advancing, as his only argument but advancing it with a fervour

that added to its weight that he stood pledged to save the cidevant Vicomte. Robespierre looked up at him

with a shade of polite regret upon his cadaverous face, and with polite regret he deplored that Caron should

So absorbed were they, the one in pleading, the other in resisting, that neither noticed the opening of the door,

"It is regrettable," returned Robespierre, "that you should have pledged your word in the matter. You will

confess, Caron, that it was a little precipitate. Enfin," he ended, crumpling the document he had signed and

tossing it under the table, "you must extricate yourself as best you can. I am sorry, but I cannot give him to

Caron's face was very white and his hands were clenched convulsively. It is questionable whether in that

moment he had not flung himself upon the Incorruptible, and enforced that which hitherto he had only

La Boulaye started round to confront her, and stifled a curse at the untimely interruption which Robespierre

"It is it is, Citoyenne," he answered shortly, to add more shortly still: "I am here on business with the

But before the girl could so much as appreciate the rebuke he levelled at her intrusion, her uncle had come to

"The business, however, is at an end. Take charge of this good Caron, Cecile, whilst I make ready for my

Thus, sore at heart, and chagrined beyond words, La Boulaye was forced to realise his defeat, and to leave the

presence of the Incorruptible. But with Cecile he went no farther than the landing.

"If you will excuse me, Citoyenne," he said abstractedly, "I will take my leave of you."

"But I shall not excuse you, Caron," she said, refusing to see his abstraction. "You will stay to dinner "

"You shall stay," she interrupted. "Come, Caron. It is months since you were with us. We will make a little

fete in honour of your yesterday's triumph," she promised him, sidling up to him with a bewitching glance of

But to such seductions Caron proved as impervious as might a man of stone. He excused himself with cold

"The Nation's business may await you a little longer," she declared, taking hold of his arm with both hands,

and had she left it at that it is possible that she had won her way with him. But most indiscreetly she added:

"Come, Caron, you shall tell me who was your yesterday's visitor. Do you know that the sight of her made

And now, from cold politeness, La Boulaye passed to hot impoliteness. Roughly he shook her detaining

hands from him, and with hardly so much as a word of farewell, he passed down the stairs, leaving her white

The beauty seemed to pass out of her face much as the meekness was wont to pass out of her uncle's when he

"Wait, Caron," she muttered to herself, "I will cry quits with you." And then, with a sob of anger, she turned

La Boulaye sat once more in the Rue Nationale and with his head in his hands, his elbows supported by the

writingtable, he stared before him, his face drawn with the pain and anger of the defeat he had sustained

He had been so assured that he had but to ask for Ombreval's life, and it would be accorded him; he had

promised Suzanne with such confidence boasting almost that he could do this, and to do it he had pledged

his word. And now? For very shame he could not go to her and tell her that despite his fine promises despite

his bold bargaining, he was as powerless to liberate Ombreval as was she herself.

And with reflection he came to see that even did he bear her such a tale she would not believe it. The infinite

assurance of his power, implicit in everything that he had said to her, must now arise in her memory, and give

the lie to his present confession of powerlessness. She would not believe him, and disbelieving him, she

would seek a motive for the words that she would deem untrue. And that motive she would not find far to

seek. She would account his present attitude the consummation of a miserable subterfuge by which he sought

to win her confidence and esteem. She would she must believe that he had but made a semblance of

befriending her so disinterestedly only that he might enlist her kindness and regard, and turn them presently

to his own purposes. She would infer that he had posed as unselfish as selfsacrificing, almost only that

he might win her esteem, and that by telling her now that Robespierre was inflexible in his resolve to send

Ombreval to the guillotine, he sought to retain that esteem whilst doing nothing for it. That he had ever

intended to save Ombreval she would not credit. She would think it all a cunning scheme to win his own

ends. And now he bethought him of the grief that would beset her upon learning that her journey had indeed

been fruitless. He smote the table a blow with his clenched hand, and cursed the whole Republic, from

Robespierre down to the meanest sansculotte that brayed the Ca ira in the streets of Paris.

He had pledged his word, and for all that he belonged to the class whose right to honour was denied by the

aristocrats, his word he had never yet broken. That circumstance as personified by Maximilien Robespierre

should break it for him now was matter enough to enrage him, for than this never had there been an

He rose to his feet, and set himself to pace the chamber, driven to action of body by the agonised activity of

his mind. From the street rose the cry of the pastrycook going his daily rounds, as it had risen yesterday, he

remembered, when Suzanne had been with him. And now of a sudden he stood still. His lips were

compressed, his brows drawn together in a forbidding scowl, and his eyes narrowed until they seemed almost

closed. Then with his clenched right hand he smote the open palm of the other. His resolve was taken. By fair

means or foul, with Robespierre's sanction or without it, he would keep his word. After not only the hope but

the assurance he had given Suzanne that her betrothed should go free, he could do no less than accomplish

And now to seek a way. He recalled the free pardon to which Robespierre had gone the length of appending

his signature. He remembered that it had not been destroyed; Robespierre had crumpled it in his hand and

tossed it aside. And by now Robespierre would have departed, and it should not be difficult for him the

If only he could find that document and fill in the name of Ombreval the thing would be as good as done.

True, he would require the signatures of three other Deputies; but one of these he could supply himself, and

another two were easily to be requisitioned, seeing that already it bore Robespierre's.

And then as suddenly as the idea of the means had come to him, came now the spectre of the consequences to

affright him. How would it fare with him on Robespierre's return? How angered would not Robespierre be

upon discovering that his wishes had been set at naught, his very measures contravened and this by fraud?

And than Robespierre's anger there were few things more terrible in '93. It was an anger that shore away

heads as recklessly as wayside flowers are flicked from their stems by the idler's cane.

For a second it daunted him. If he did this thing he must seek refuge in flight; he must leave France, abandon

the career which was so full of promise for him, and wander abroad, a penniless fortunehunter. Well might

the prospect give him pause. Well might it cause him to survey that pale, sardonic countenance that eyed him

gloomily from the mirror above his mantel shelf, and ask it mockingly if it thought that Suzanne de Bellecour

What had she done for him that he should cast away everything for her sake? Once she had told him that she

loved him, only to betray him. Was that a woman for whom a man should wanton his fortunes? And then he

smiled derisively, mocking his reflections in the mirror even as he mocked himself.

"Poor fool," he muttered, "it is not for the sake of what you are to her. Were it for that alone, you would not

stir a finger to gratify her wishes. It is for the sake of what she is to you, Caron."

He turned from the mirror, his resolve now firm, and going to the door he called his official. Briefly he

instructed Brutus touching the packing of a valise, which he would probably need that night.

"You are going a journey, Citizen?" inquired Brutus, to which La Boulaye returned a short answer in the

affirmative. "Do I accompany you?" inquired the official, to which La Boulaye shook his head.

At that Brutus, who, for all his insolence of manner, was very devotedly attached to his employer, broke into

remonstrances, impertinent of diction but affectionate of tenor. He protested that La Boulaye had left him

behind, and lonely, during his mission to the army in Belgium, and he vowed that he would not be left behind

"Well, well; we shall see, Brutus," answered the Deputy, laying his hand upon the fellow's shoulder. "But I

The man's ferrety eyes were raised of a sudden to La Boulaye's face in a very searching glance. Caron's tone

"I know not that. But you are. I heard it in your voice. And you do not trust me, Citizen La Boulaye," the

fellow added, in a stricken voice. "I have served you faithfully these two years, and yet you have not learnt to

"I do, I do, my friend. You go too fast with your conclusions. Now see to my valise, and on my return

"Why, yes," La Boulaye promised him, "unless you should prefer to remain in Paris."

With that he got away and leaving the house, he walked briskly up the street, round the corner, and on until

"Has the Citizen Robespierre departed yet?" he inquired of the woman who answered his peremptory knock.

"He has been gone this hour, Citizen La Boulaye," she answered. "He started almost immediately after you

"Diable!" grumbled Caron, with wellfeigned annoyance. "Quel contretemps! I have left a most important

"But the Citoyenne Cecile has the key," answered the woman, eager to oblige him.

"Why, yes naturally! Now that is fortunate. Will you do me the favour to procure the key from he

"But certainly, Montez, Citoyen." And with a wave of the hand towards the stairs she went before him.

He followed leisurely, and by the time he had reached Robespierre's door her voice floated down to him from

above, calling the Incorruptible's niece. Next he heard Cecile's voice replying, and then a whispered

conference on the landing overhead, to the accompaniment of the occasional tinkle of a bunch of keys.

Presently the domestic returned, and unlocking the door, she held it open for La Boulaye to pass. From her

attitude it seemed to Caron as if she were intentioned probably she had been instructed to remain there

while he obtained what he sought. Now he had no mind that she should see him making his quest among the

"I shall not be more than a few minutes," he announced quietly. "I will call you when I am ready to depart."

Thus uncompromisingly dismissed, she did not venture to remain, and, passing in, La Boulaye closed the

door. As great as had been his deliberation hitherto was now the feverish haste with which he crossed to the

spot where he had seen the document flung. He caught up a crumpled sheet and opened it out It was not the

thing he sought. He cast it aside and took up another with no better luck. To crumple discarded papers

seemed the habit of the Incorruptible, for there was a very litter of them on the ground. One after another did

Caron investigate without success. He was on his knees now, and his exploration had carried him as far as the

table; another moment and he was grovelling under it, still at his search, which with each fresh

Yonder by the leg of the Incorruptible's chair he espied the ball of paper, and to reach it he stretched to

his full length, lying prone beneath a table in an attitude scarce becoming a Deputy of the French Republic.

But it was worth the effort and the disregard of dignity, for when presently on his knees he smoothed out that

document, he discovered it to be the one he sought the order upon the gaolers of the Luxembourg to set at

liberty a person or persons whose names were to be filled in, signed by Maximilien Robespierre.

He rose, absorbed in his successful find, and he pursued upon the table the process of smoothing the creases

as much as possible from that priceless document. That done he took up a pen and attached his own signature

alongside of Robespierre's; then into the blank space above he filled the name of Anatole d'Ombreval

cidevant Vicomte d'Ombreval. He dropped the pen and took up the sandbox. He sprinkled the writing,

creased the paper, and dusted the sand back into the receptacle. And then of a sudden his blood seemed to

freeze, and beads of cold sweat stood out upon his brow. There had been the very slightest stir behind him,

and with it had come a warm breath upon his bowed neck. Someone was looking over his shoulder. An

instant he remained in that bowed attitude with head halfraised. Then suddenly straightening himself he

Confronting each other and very close they now stood and each was breathing with more than normal

quickness. Her cheeks were white, her nostrils dilated and quivering, her blue eyes baleful and cruel, whilst

her lips wore never so faint a smile. For a second La Boulaye looked the very picture of foolishness and

alarm. Then it seemed as if he drew a curtain, and his face assumed the expressionless mask that was habitual

to it in moments of great tension. Instinctively he put behind him his hands which held the paper. Cecile's lips

"You thief!" she said, very low, but very fiercely. "That was the paper that you left behind you, was it?"

"The paper that I have is certainly the paper that I left behind," he answered serenely, for he had himself well

in hand by now. "And as for dubbing me a thief so readily" he paused, and shrugged his shoulders "you

are a woman," he concluded, with an air suggesting that that fact was a conclusion to all things.

"Fool!" she blazed. "Do you think to overcome me by quibbles? Do you think to dupe me with words and

"My dear Cecile he begged halfwhimsically, "may I implore you to use some restraint? Inured as I am to the

unbounded licence of your tongue and to the abandon that seems so inherent in you, let me assure you that

"Ah! You can say Cecile now?" she cried, leaving the remainder of his speech unheeded. "Now that you need

me; now that you want me to be a party to your treacherous designs against my uncle. Oh, you can say

"It seems I am doomed to be always misunderstood by you," he laughed, and at the sound she started as if he

Had she but looked in his eyes she had seen no laughter there; she might have realised that murder rather than

mirth was in his soul for, at all costs, he was determined to hold the paper he had been at such pains to get.

"I understand you well enough," she cried hotly, her cheeks flaming red of a sudden. "I understand you, you

thief, you trickster. Do you think that I heard nothing of what passed this morning between my uncle and

you? Do you think I do not know whose name you have written on that paper? Answer me," she commanded

"Since you know so much, what need for any questions?" quoth he coolly, transferring the coveted paper to

his pocket as he spoke. "And since we are so far agreed that I am not contradicting anything you say nor,

indeed, intend to perhaps you will see the convenience of ending an interview that promises to be fruitless.

My dear Cecile, I am very grateful to you for the key of this room. I beg that you will make my compliments

to the Citizen your uncle upon his return, and inform him of how thoroughly you ministered to my wants."

With that and a superb air of insouciance, he made shift to go. But fronting him she barred his way.

"Give me that paper, sclerat," she demanded imperiously. "You shall not go until you surrender it. Give it to

"You may call the devil for aught I care, you little fool," he answered her, very pleasantly. "Do you think

Duplay will be mad enough to lay hands upon a Deputy of the Convention in the discharge of the affairs of

"Why, of course it is," he admitted sweetly. "But Duplay will not be aware of that."

"Tut! He won't believe you. I'll threaten him with the guillotine if he does. And I should think that Duplay has

sufficient dread of the national barber not to risk having his toilet performed by him. Now, be reasonable, and

Enraged beyond measure by his persiflage and very manifest contempt of her, she sprang suddenly upon him,

"Give me that paper!" she screamed, exerting her entire strength in a vain effort to boldly shake him.

Coldly he eyed this goldenhaired virago now, and looked in vain for some trace of her wonted beauty in the

"You grow tiresome with your repetitions," he answered her impatiently, as, snatching at her wrists, he made

A second she staggered, then, recovering her balance and without an instant's hesitation, she sped to the door.

Imagining her intent to be to lock him in La Boulaye sprang after her. But it seemed that his mind had been

more swift to fasten upon the wiser course than had hers. Instead, she snatched the key and closed the door on

the inside. She wasted a moment fumbling at the lock, and even as he caught her by the waist the key slipped

in, and before he dragged her back she had contrived to turn it, and now held it in her hand. He laughed a

"You shall not leave this room with that paper," she gasped, her anger ever swelling, and now rendering her

"My dear Cecile," quoth he, "if you will take no thought for my convenience, I beg that, at least, you will take

some for your good name. Thousand devils woman! Will you have it said in Paris that you were found locked

in a room with me? What will your uncle your virtuous, prudish, incorruptible uncle say when he learns

of it? If he does not demand a heavy price from you for so dishonouring him, he is not the man I deem him.

Now be sensible, child, and open that door while there is yet time, and before anybody discovers us in this

He struck the tone most likely to win him obedience, and that he had judged astutely her face showed him. In

the place of the anger that had distorted it there came now into that countenance a look of surprise and fear.

She saw herself baffled at every point. She had threatened him with Duplay the only man available and

he had shown her how futile it must prove to summon him. And now she had locked herself in with him,

thinking to sit there until he should do her will, and he showed her the danger to herself therein, which had

There was a settle close behind her, and on to this she sank, and bending her head she opened the floodgates

of her passionate little soul, and let the rage that had so long possessed her dissolve in tears. At sight of that

sudden change of front La Boulaye stamped his foot. He appreciated the fact that she was about to fight him

with weapons that on a previous occasion when, however, it is true, they were wielded by another had

And for all that he steeled his heart, and evoked the memory of Suzanne to strengthen him in his purpose: he

approached her with a kindly exterior. He sat him down beside her; he encompassed her waist with his arm,

and drawing her to him he set himself to soothe her as one soothes a wilful child. Had he then recalled what

her attitude had been towards him in the past he had thought twice before adopting such a course. But in his

mind there was no sentiment that was not brotherly, and far from his wishes was it to invest his action with

But she, feeling that caressing arm about her, and fired by it in her hapless passion for this man, was quick to

misinterpret him, and to translate his attitude into one of a kindness far beyond his dreams. She nestled closer

She glanced up at him shyly through wet lashes as peeps the sun through April clouds.

"There is nothing I will not do for you, Caron," she murmured. "See, I will even help you to play the traitor

He felt himself grow cold from head to foot, and he grew sick at the thought that by the indiscretion of his

clumsy sympathy he had brought this down upon his luckless head. Mechanically his arm relaxed the hold of

her waist and fell away. Instinctively she apprehended that all was not as she had thought. She turned on the

seat to face him squarely, and caught something of the dismay in his glance of the loathing almost (for what

is more loathsome to a man than to be wooed by a woman he desires not?) Gradually, inch by inch, she drew

away from him, ever facing him, and her eyes ever on his, as if fascinated by the horror of what she saw.

Thus until the extremity of the settle permitted her to go no farther. She started, then her glance flickered

down, and she gave a sudden gasp of passion. Simultaneously the key rang on the boards at Caron's feet

"Go!" she exclaimed, in a suffocating voice, "and never let me see your face again."

For a second or two he sat quite still, his eyes observing her with a look of ineffable pity, which might have

increased her disorder had she perceived it. Then slowly he stooped, and took up the key.

He rose from the settle, and without a word for words he realised, could do no more than heighten the

tragic banality of the situation he went to the door, unlocked it, and passed out.

Huddled in her corner sat Cecile, listening until his steps had died away on the stairs. Then she cast herself

prone upon the settle, and in a frenzy of sobs and tears she vented some of the rage and shame that were

What La Boulaye may have lacked in knowledge of woman's ways he made up for by his knowledge of

Cecile, and from this he apprehended that there was no time to be lost if he would carry out his purpose.

Touching her dismissal of him, he permitted himself no illusions. He rated it at its true value. He saw in it no

sign of relenting of generosity, but only a desire to put an end to the shame which his presence was

He could imagine the lengths to which the thirst of vengeance would urge a scorned woman, and of all

women he felt that Cecile scorned was the most to be feared. She would not sit with folded hands. Once she

overcame the first tempestuous outburst of her passion she would be up and doing, straining every sense to

outwit and thwart him in his project, whose scope she must have more than guessed.

Reasoning thus, he clearly saw not only that every moment was of value, but that flight was the only thing

remaining him if he would save himself as well as Ombreval. And so he hired him a cabriolet, and drove in

all haste to the house of Billaud Varennes, the Deputy, from whom he sought to obtain one of the two

signatures still needed by his order of release. He was disappointed at learning that Varennes was not at home

though, had he been able to peep an hour or so into the future, he would have offered up thanks to Heaven

for that same Deputy's absence. His insistent and impatient questions elicited the information that probably

Verennes would be found at Fevrier's. And so to Fevrier's famous restaurant in the old Palais Royal went La

Boulaye, and there he had the good fortune to find not only Billaud Varennes, but also the Deputy Carnot.

Nor did fortune end her favours there. She was smiling now upon Caron, as was proved by the fact that

neither to Varennes nor Carnot did the name of Ombreval mean anything. Robespierre's subscription of the

document was accepted by each as affording him a sufficient warrant to append his own signature, and

although Carnot asked a question or two, it was done in an idle humour, and he paid little attention to such

Within five minutes of entering the restaurant, La Boulaye was in the street again, driving, by way of the Pont

At the prison he encountered not the slightest difficulty. He was known personally to the officer, of whom he

demanded the person of the cidevant Vicomte, and his order of release was too correct to give rise to any

hesitation on the part of the man to whom it was submitted. He was left waiting a few moments in a chamber

that did duty as a guardroom, and presently the Vicomte, looking pale, and trembling with excitement at his

"You?" he muttered, upon beholding La Boulaye. But the Republican received him very coldly, and hurried

The officer attended the Deputy to the door of his cabriolet, and in his hearing Caron bade the coachman

drive to the Porte St. Martin. This, however, was no more than a subterfuge to which he was resorting with a

view to baffling the later possibility of their being traced. Ombreval naturally enough plied him with

questions as they went, to which La Boulaye returned such curt answers that in the end, discouraged and

Arrived at the Porte St. Martin they alighted, and La Boulaye dismissed the carriage. On foot he now led his

companion as far as the church of St. Nicholas des Champs, where he hired a second cabriolet, bidding the

man drive him to the Quai de la Greve. Having reached the riverside they once more took a short walk,

crossing by the Pont au Change, and thence making their way towards Notre Dame, in the neighbourhood of

which La Boulaye ushered the Vicomte into a third carriage, and thinking that by now they had done all that

was needed to efface their tracks, he ordered the man to proceed as quickly as possible to Choisy.

They arrived at that little village on the Seine an hour or so later, and having rid themselves of their

conveyance, Caron inquired and discovered the way to the house of Citoyenne Godelliere.

Mademoiselle was within, and at sound of Caron's voice questioning the erstwhile servant who had

befriended her, she made haste to show herself. And at a word from her, Henriette admitted the two men and

"I trust that I have not kept you waiting overlong, Citoyenne," he said, by way of saying something.

"Monsieur," she answered him, with a look that was full of gratitude and kindliness" you have behaved

This La Boulaye deprecated by a gesture, but uttered no word as the Vicomte now stepped forward and bore

"Mademoiselle," said he, "Monsieur La Boulaye here was very reticent touching the manner in which my

release has been gained. But I never doubted that I owed it to your good efforts, and that you had adopted the

La Boulaye flushed slightly as much at the contemptuous tone as at the words in which Ombreval referred to

"It is not to me but to our good friend, M. La Boulaye, that you should address your thanks, Monsieur."

"Ah? Vraiment?" exclaimed the Vicomte, turning a supercilious eye upon the Deputy, for with his freedom

"I have not sold you to the Citoyenne," said La Boulaye, the words being drawn from him by the other's

manner. "I am making her a present of you a sort of wedding gift." And his lips smiled, for all that his eyes

Ombreval made him no answer, but stood looking from the Deputy to Suzanne in some hesitation. The

expressions which his very lofty dignity prompted, his sense of fitness feeble though it was forbade him.

And so there followed a pause, which, however, was but brief, for La Boulaye had yet something to say.

It had just come to him with a dismaying force that in the haste of his escape from Paris with the Vicomte he

had forgotten to return to his lodging for a passport that he was fortunately possessed of. It was a

laissezpasser, signed and left in blank, with which he had been equipped against the possibility of the need

for it arising when he had started upon the Convention's errand to the Army of Dumouriez. Whilst on his

way to Robespierre's house to secure the order of release, he had bethought him of filling in that passport for

three persons, and thus, since to remain must entail his ruin and destruction, make his escape from France

with Mademoiselle and the Vicomte. It was his only chance. Then in the hurry of the succeeding incidents,

the excitement that had attended them, and the imperative need for haste in getting the Vicomte to Choisy, he

had put the intended return to his lodging from his mind overlooking until now the fact that not only must

he go back for the valise which he had bidden Brutus pack, but also for that far more precious passport.

It now became necessary to explain the circumstances to his companions, and in explaining them the whole

affair, from Robespierre's refusal to grant him the life of the Vicomte down to the means to which he had had

recourse, could not be kept from transpiring. As she listened, Suzanne's expression changed into one of

"And you have done this for me?" she cried, when at last he paused., "you have ruined your career and

"I spoke overconfidently when I said that I could obtain you the Vicomte's pardon. There proved to be a

factor on which I had not counted. Nevertheless, what I had promised I must fulfil. I was by honour bound to

"A sansculotte with a sense of honour is such an anomaly " he began, when Mademoiselle interposed, a

"M. d'Ombreval means to pay you a compliment," she informed La Boulaye, "but he has such an odd way of

"I am afraid the cidevant Vicomte has not yet learnt his lesson," said he;" or else he is like the sinner who

upon recovering health forgot the penitence that had come to him in the days of sickness. But we have other

matters to deal with, Citoyenne, and, in particular, the matter of the passport. Fool that I am!" he cried

"I must return to Paris at once," he announced briskly. "There is no help for it. We will hope that as yet the

way is open to me, and that I shall be permitted to go and to return unmolested. In such a case the rest is easy

"Monsieur," she said, in a voice that shook with the sincere intensity of her feelings, "think me not ungrateful

that I have said so little. But your act has overwhelmed me. It is so truly noble, that to offer you thanks that

"Tut!" he laughed. "I have not yet done half. It will be time to thank me when we are out of France."

"And you speak so lightly of leaving France?" she cried. "But what is to become of you? What of your

"Other careers are possible in other countries," he answered, with a lightness he did not feel. "Who knows

perhaps the English or the Prussians might be amenable to a change of government. I shall seek to induce one

or the other of them to became a republic, and then I shall become once more a legislator."

With that, and vowing that every moment he remained their chances of leaving France grew more slender, he

took his leave of her, expressing the hope that he might be back within a couple of hours. Mademoiselle

She discovered her betrothed he whom La Boulaye had called her lover standing with his back to the fire,

his hands clasped behind him, the very picture of surliness. He made none of the advances that one might

look for in a man placed as he was at that moment. He greeted her, instead, with a complaint.

"Will you permit me, Mademoiselle, to say that in this matter you have hardly chosen the wiser course?"

"In the matter of my release. I advised you in my letter to purchase my freedom. Had you done so, we should

now be in a position to start for the frontier for you would have made a passport a part of your bargain.

Instead of this, not only are we obliged to run the risk of waiting, but even if this fellow should return, we

shall be affronted by his company for some days to come." And the Vicomte sniffed the air in token of

Suzanne looked at him in an amazement that left her speechless for a moment. At last:

"And this is your gratitude?" she demanded. "This is all that you have to say in thanks for the discomfort and

danger that I have suffered on your behalf? Your tone is oddly changed since you wrote me that piteous,

"I am afraid that I have been clumsy in my expressions," he apologised. "But never doubt my gratitude,

Mademoiselle. I am more grateful to you than words can tell. You have done your duty to me as few women

The word "duty" offended her, yet she let it pass. In his monstrous vanity it was often hopeless to make him

appreciate the importance of anything or anybody outside of himself. Of this the present occasion was an

"You must forgive me my seeming thanklessness, Mademoiselle," he pursued. "It was the company of that

sansculotte rascal that soured me. I had enough of him a month ago, when he brought me to Paris. It

offended me to have him stand here again in the same room with me, and insolently refer to his pledged word

"So it seemed, and yet I could not believe it of you. Do you not realise that your ingratitude approaches the

"Mordieu!" he ejaculated at last. "I am afraid that your reason has been affected by your troubles. You seem,

Mademoiselle, to be unmindful of the station into which you have had the honour to be born."

"If your bearing is to be accepted as a sign that you remember it, I will pray God that I may, indeed, forget it

And then the door opened to admit the good Henriette, who came to announce that she had contrived a hasty

"Diable!" he laughed. "Those are the first words of true wit that I have heard these many days. I swear," he

added, with a pleasantness that was oddly at variance with his sullen humour of a moment back," that I have

not tasted human food these four weeks, and as for my appetite it is capable of consuming the whole

Facts proved how correct had been La Boulaye's anticipations of the course that Cecile would adopt, Within a

halfhour of his having quitted the house of Billaud Varennes, she presented herself there, and demanded to

see the Deputy. Upon being told that he was absent she determined to await his return.

And so, for the matter of an hour, she remained in the room where the porter had offered her accommodation,

fretting at the delay, and only restrained from repairing to some other member of the Convention by the

expectation that the next moment would see Varennes arrive. Arrive he did at last, when her patience was all

but exhausted, and excitedly she told her tale of what had taken place. Varennes listened gravely, and

crossquestioned her in his unbelief for it seemed, indeed, monstrous that a man of La Boulaye's position

should ruin so promising a future as was his by an act for which Varennes could not so much as divine a

motive. But her story hung together so faithfully, and was so far borne out by the fact that Varennes himself

had indeed signed such a document as she described, that in the end the Deputy determined to take some

Dismissing the girl with the assurance that the matter should have his attention, he began by despatching a

courier to Robespierre at Chartres where he knew the Incorruptible to be. That done, he resorted to

measures for La Boulaye's detention. But this proved a grave matter. What if, after all, that halfhysterical

girl's story should be inaccurate? In what case would he find himself if, acting upon it in the meantime, he

should order Caron's arrest? The person of a Deputy was not one to be so lightly treated, and he might find

himself constrained to answer a serious charge in consequence. Thus partly actuated by patriotism and the

fear of Robespierre, and partly restrained by patriotism and the fear of La Boulaye, he decided upon a middle

course: that of simply detaining La Boulaye at his lodging until Robespierre should either return or send an

answer to his message. Thus, whilst leaving him perfect freedom of movement within his own apartments, he

would yet ensure against his escape so that should Robespierre demand him he could without difficulty be

To this end he repaired with a souslieutenant and six men to La Boulaye's house in the Rue Nationale,

intending to station the soldiers there with orders not to allow the Deputy to go out, and to detain and

question all who sought admittance to him. He nourished the hope that the cidevant Vicomte might still be

with La Boulaye. At the Rue Nationale, however, he was to discover that neither Deputy nor aristocrat was to

be found. Brutus informed him that he was expecting the Citizen La Boulaye, but beyond that he would say

nothing, and he wisely determined to hold his peace touching the valise that he had been ordered to pack and

the fact that he knew the Deputy meditated leaving Paris. Brutus had learnt the value of silence, especially

Alarmed at this further corroboration of Cecile's story of treachery Varennes left the military at Caron's

house, with orders not to allow the Deputy to again depart if in the meantime he should happen to return,

whilst to every barrier of Paris he sent instructions to have La Boulaye detained if he should present himself.

By these measures he hoped still to be able to provide against the possibility of Caron's seeking to leave

But Caron had been gone over an hour, and as a matter of fact, he was back again in Paris within a very little

time of these orders having been issued. At the Barriere d'Enfer, although recognised, he was not molested,

since the orders only, and distinctly, concerned his departure and nowise his arrival.

Thus, not until he had reached his lodgings did he realise that all was not as he had hoped. And even then it

when he found himself suddenly confronted by the souslieutenant, who was idling in the passage. The

officer saluted him respectfully, and no less respectfully, though firmly, informed him that, by order of the

Citizendeputy Billaud Varennes, he must ask him to confine himself to his own apartments until further

"But why, Citizenofficer?" La Boulaye demanded, striving to exclude from his voice any shade of the

The officer was courtesy personified, but explanations he had none to give, for the excellent reason, he urged

that he was possessed of none. He was a soldier, and he had received orders which he must obey, without

questioning either their wisdom or their justice. Appreciating the futility of bearing himself otherwise, since

his retreat was already blocked by a couple of gendarmes, Caron submitted to the inevitable.

He mounted leisurely to his study, and the ruin that stared him in the eyes was enough to have daunted the

boldest of men. Yet, to do him justice, he was more concerned at the moment with the consequences this turn

of affairs might have for Mademoiselle than with his own impending downfall. That he had Cecile to thank

for his apprehension he never doubted. Yet it was a reflection that he readily dismissed from his mind. In

such a pass as he now found himself none but a weakling could waste time and energy in bewailing the

circumstances that had conspired to it. In a man of La Boulaye's calibre and mettle it was more befitting to

He called Brutus and crossquestioned him regarding the attitude and behaviour of the soldiery since their

coming. He learnt that nothing had been touched by them, and that they were acting with the utmost

discreetness, taking scrupulous care not to exceed the orders they had received, which amounted to detaining

"I think that I might certainly go. But whether they would permit me to return once I had left, I cannot say.

"So that they will let you pass out, that is all that signifies at the moment," said Caron. "Should they question

you, you can tell them that you are going to dine and to fetch me my dinner from Berthon's. As a matter of

fact, I shall want you to go to Choisy with a letter, which you must see does not fall into the hands of any of

"Give me the letter, Citizen, and trust me to do the rest," answered the faithful Brutus.

La Boulaye searched a drawer of his writingtable for the blank passport he required. Having found it, he

hesitated for a moment how to fill it in. At last he decided, and set down three names Pierre, Francois, and

Julie Michael, players, going to Strasbourg to which he added descriptions of himself, the Vicomte, and

Mademoiselle. He reasoned that in case it should ultimately prove impossible for him to accompany them,

the passport, thus indited, would still do duty for the other two. They could easily advance some excuse why

the third person mentioned was not accompanying them. From this it will be seen that La Boulaye was far

from having abandoned hope of effecting his escape, either by his own resourcefulness or by the favour of

Robespierre himself, whose kindness for him, after all, was a factor worth reckoning upon.

I am sending you the laissezpasser filled in for the three of us. I am unfortunately unable to bring it myself

as my abstraction of the order of release has already been discovered, and I am being detained pending the

arrival of Robespierre. But I am at my own lodging, and I have every hope that, either by the use of my own

wit, or else by the favour of my friend Robespierre, I shall shortly be able to join you. I would therefore ask

you to wait a few days. But should I presently send you word not to do so any longer, or should you hear of

events which will render it impossible for me to accompany you, you can then set out with Ombreval,

travelling under the guise described in the passport, and informing any questioners that the other person

mentioned has been forced by ill health to interrupt his journey. As I have said, I have every hope of winning

through my present difficulties; but should I fail to do so, my most earnest prayer will be that you may make

your way out of France in safety, and that lasting happiness may be your lot in whatever country you may

elect to settle. You may trust the bearer implicitly, patriotic though he may appear.

He subscribed the letter with his initials, and, having enclosed the passport and sealed the package, he gave it

These instructions Brutus carried out with speed and fidelity. He was allowed to quit the house without so

much as a question, which left his plan for readmittance the greater likelihood of succeeding. In something

less than an hour for he hired himself a horse at the nearest posthouse he had delivered his letter to

Its contents sowed in her heart the very deepest consternation a consternation very fully shared by the

"Tenez!" he exclaimed, when he had read it. "Perhaps now you will admit the justice of my plaint that you

did not make a simple purchase of my liberty, as I counselled you, instead of entering into this idiotic

She looked at him a moment in silence. She was suffering as it was at the very thought that La Boulaye's life

might be in danger in consequence of what he had done for her. With reluctance had she accepted the

sacrifice of his career which he had made to serve her. Now that it became the question of a sacrifice of life

as well she was dismayed. All the wrongs that she and hers had done that man seemed to rise up and reproach

her now. And so, when presently she answered the Vicomte, it was no more than natural that she should

" Settled it?" he echoed, with a sneer. "It seems none so easy to settle. Do you think that words will settle it."

"By no means," she answered, her voice quivering. "It seems as if a man's life will be required for that."

"I hope, Mademoiselle, that you are not proposing to introduce sentimentality. I think you would be better

"I do not propose to pursue the discussion at all, Monsieur," was her chilly answer.

"The way of woman," he reflected aloud. "Let her find that she is being worsted in argument, and she calmly

tells you that she has no mind to pursue it. But, Mademoiselle, will you tell me at least what you intend?"

"Whenever we are asked to follow a given course, we have always the choice between two alternatives," he

"In the present instance I am afraid your rule is inapplicable. There is no room for any alternative. We can do

"Monsieur," she said, as calmly as might be," I am almost distracted by my thoughts as it is. I don't know

whether you are seeking to complete the rout of my senses. Let me beg of you at least not to deal in riddles

with me. The time is illchosen. Tell me bluntly what is in your mind, if, indeed, anything."

He turned from her peevishly, and crossed to the window. The twilight was descending, and the little garden

was looking grey in the now pallid light. Her seeming obtuseness was irritating him.

"Surely, Mademoiselle," he exclaimed at last, "it is not necessary that I should tell you what other course is

open to us? It is a matter for our choice whether we depart at once. We have a passport, and and, enfin,

every hour that we remain here our danger is increased, and our chances of escape are lessened."

"Pooh! he says himself that he is in no great danger. He is among his fellows. Leave him to extricate himself.

After all, it is his fault that we are here. Why should we endanger our necks by waiting his convenience?"

"But surely you forget what he has done for us. You are forgetting that he has rescued you from the

guillotine, dragged you out of the very jaws of death. Do you think that to forsake him now would be a fair,

"But name of a name," rasped the Vicomte, "does he not say that he is far from despairing? His position is

not half so dangerous as ours. If we are taken, there will be an end of us. With him matters are far from being

so bad. He is one of the rabble himself, and the rabble will look after its own."

"Monsieur, I am afraid the subject is not one that we may profitably discuss. I shall obey the voice of my

conscience in the matter, and I shall wait until we hear again from La Boulaye. That is the message I am

The Vicomte watched her fling out of the room, and his weak face was now white with anger. He rapped out

"Mad!" he muttered, throughset teeth. "Mad as a sunstruck dog. The troubles she has lately seen have

turned her head never a difficult matter with a woman. She talks as if she had been reading Rousseau on the

'Right of man'. To propose to endanger our lives for the sake of that scum, La Boulaye! Ciel! It passes belief."

But it was in vain that he was sullen and resentful. Suzanne's mind entertained no doubt of what she should

do, and she had her way in the matter, sending back Brutus with the message that she would wait until La

That night Caron slept tranquilly. He had matured a plan of escape which he intended to carry out upon the

But the morrow early in the forenoon brought a factor with which he had not reckoned, in the person of

the Incorruptible himself. Robespierre had returned in hot haste to Paris upon receiving Varennes' message,

Caron was in his dressinggown when Robespierre was ushered into his study, and the sight of that greenish

complexion and the small eyes, looking very angry and menacing, caused the song that the young man had

"Your cordial welcome flatters me," sneered the Incorruptible, coming forward. Then with a sudden change

It would have been a madness on Caron's part to have increased an anger that was already mounting to very

passionate heights. Contritely, therefore, and humbly he acknowledged his fault, and cast himself upon the

"Traitor that you are!" he inveighed. "Do you imagine that because it is yours to make high sounding

speeches in the Convention you are to conspire with impunity against the Nation? Your loyalty, it seems, is

no more than a matter of words, and they that would keep their heads on their shoulders in France today will

find the need for more than words as their claim to be let live. If you would save your miserable neck, tell me

"Don't prevaricate, Caron! Don't seek to befool me, Citizendeputy. You have him in hiding somewhere. You

can have supplied him with no papers, and a man may not travel out of France without them in these times.

"Gone," repeated La Boulaye. "I have set him free, and he has availed himself of it to place himself beyond

"Can you not?" snarled Robespierre, showing his teeth. "Of what are you dreaming fool? Do you think that I

will so easily see myself cheated of this dog? Did I not tell you that rather would I grant you the lives of a

dozen aristocrats than that of this single one? Do you think, then, that I am so lightly to be baulked? Name of

God? Who are you, La Boulaye, what are you, that you dare thwart me in this?" He looked at the young

man's impassive face to curb his anger. "Come, Caron," he added, in a wheedling tone. "Tell me what you

As swift and suddenly as it changed before did Robespierre's humour change again upon receiving that reply.

"Give yourself the trouble of coming up with a couple of men. Now, Citizen La Boulaye," he said, more

composedly, as he turned once more to the young man, "since you will not learn reason you may mount the

Caron paled slightly as he inclined his head in silent submission. At that moment the officer entered with his

"Arrest me that traitor," Maximilien commanded, pointing a shaking finger at Caron. "To the Luxembourg

"If you will wait while I change my dressinggown for a coat, Citizenofficer," said La Boulaye composedly,

"I shall be grateful." Then, turning to his official, "Brutus," he called, "attend me."

He had an opportunity while Brutus was helping him into his coat to whisper in the fellow's ear:

More he dared not say, but to his astute official that was enough, and with a sorrowful face he delivered to

Suzanne, a few hours later, the news of La Boulaye's definite arrest and removal to the Luxembourg.

At Brutus's description of the scene there had been 'twixt Robespierre and Caron she sighed heavily, and her

She bore the news to d'Ombreval, and upon hearing it he tossed aside the book that had been engrossing him

"It is the end," said he, as though no happier consummation could have attended matters, "and we have no

more to wait for. Shall we set out today?" he asked, and urged the wisdom of making haste.

"I hope and I pray God that it may not be the end, as you so fondly deem it, Monsieur," she answered him.

"But whether it is the end or not, I am resolved to wait until there is no room for any hope."

"As you will," he sighed wearily, "The issue of it all will probably be the loss of our heads. But even that

"Or unselfishness, it seems, to a man," she returned, as she swept angrily from the room.

At the Bar of the Revolutionary Tribunal stood Deputy Caron La Boulaye upon his trial for treason to the

Nation and contravention of the ends of justice. FouquierTinvillle, the sleuthhound AttorneyGeneral,

advanced his charges, and detailed the nature of the young revolutionist's crime. But there was in

FouquierTinvillle's prosecution a lack of virulence for once, just as among La Boulaye's fellows, sitting in

judgment, there was a certain uneasiness, for the Revolution was still young, and it had not yet developed that

Saturnian habit of devouring its own children which was later to become one of its main features.

The matter of La Boulaye's crime, however, was but too clear, and despite the hesitancy on the part of the

jury, despite the unwonted tameness of Tinvillle's invective, the Tribunal's course was welldefined, and

admitted of not the slightest doubt. And so, the production of evidence being dispensed with by Caron's ready

concurrence and acknowledgment of the offence, the President was on the point of formally asking the jury

for their finding, when suddenly there happened a commotion, and a small man in a blue coat and

blackrimmed spectacles rose at Tinvillle's side, and began an impassioned speech for the defence.

This man was Robespierre, and the revolutionists sitting there listened to him in mute wonder, for they

recalled that it was upon the Incorruptible's own charge their brotherdeputy had been arrested. Ardently did

Maximilien pour out his eloquence, enumerating the many virtues of the accused and dwelling at length upon

his vast services to the Republic, his hitherto unfaltering fidelity to the nation and the people's cause, and

lastly, deploring that in a moment of weakness he should have committed the indiscretion which had brought

him where he stood. And against this thing of which he was now accused, Robespierre bade the Deputies of

the jury balance the young man's past, and the much that he had done for the Revolution, and to offer him, in

consideration of all that, a chance of making atonement and regaining the position of trust and of brotherly

The Court was stirred by the address. They knew the young sansculotte's worth, and they were reluctant to

pass sentence upon him and to send him to the death designed for aristocrats and traitors. And so they readily

pronounced themselves willing to extend him the most generous measure of mercy, to open their arms and

once more to clasp to their hearts the brother who had strayed and to reinstate him in their confidence and

their councils. They pressed Robespierre to name the act of atonement by which he proposed La Boulaye

"Let him repair the evil he has done. Let him neutralise the treachery into which a moment of human

weakness betrayed him. Let him return to us the aristocrat he has attempted to save, and we will forget his

indiscretion and receive him back amongst us with open arms, as was the prodigal son received."

There was a salvo of applause. Men rose to their feet excitedly, and with arms outstretched in Caron's

direction they vociferously implored him to listen to reason as uttered by the Incorruptible, to repent him and

to atone while there was yet time. They loved him, they swore in voices of thunder, each seeking to be heard

above his neighbour's din, and it would break their hearts to find him guilty, yet find him guilty they must

unless he chose the course which this good patriot Maximilien pointed out to him.

La Boulaye stood pale but composed, his lips compressed, his keen eyes alert. Inwardly he was moved by this

demonstration of goodwill, this very storm of fraternity, but his purpose remained adamant, and when at last

the President's bell had tinkled his noisy judges into silence, his voice rose clear and steady as he thanked

"Helas," he ended, "words cannot tell you how deeply I deplore that it is a clemency of which I may not avail

myself. What I have done I may not undo. And so, Citizens, whilst I would still retain your love and your

sympathy, you must suffer me to let justice take its course. To delay would be but to waste your time the

"But this is rank defiance," roared Tinvillle, roused at last into some semblance of his habitual

bloodthirstiness. "He whose heart can be so insensible to our affections merits no clemency at this bar."

And so the President turned with a shrug to his colleagues, and the verdict was taken. The finding was

"Guilty," and the President was on the point of passing sentence, when again Robespierre sprang to his feet.

The Incorruptible's complexion looked sicklier than its wont, for mortification had turned him green outright.

A gust of passion swept through his soul, such as would have made another man call for the death of this

defiant youth who had withstood his entreaties. But such was Robespierre's wonderful command of self, such

was his power of making his inclinations subservient to the ends he had in view that he had but risen to voice

He demanded that the sentence should be passed with the reservation that the accused should have

twentyfour hours for reflection. Should he at the end of that time be disposed to tell them where the

cidevant Vicomte d'Ombreval was to be found, let them reconsider his case. On the other hand, should he

still continue obdurate by the noon of tomorrow, then let the sentence be consummated.

There was some demur, but Robespierre swept it fiercely aside with patriotic arguments. La Boulaye was a

stout servant of the Nation, whom it must profit France to let live that he might serve her; Ombreval was a

base aristocrat, whose death all true Republicans should aim at encompassing. And so he won the day in the

end, and when the sentence of death was passed, it was passed with the reservation that should the prisoner,

upon reflection, be inclined to show himself more loyal to France and the interests of the Republic by telling

them how Ornbreval might be recaptured, he would find them still inclined to mercy and forgiveness.

Allowing his eyes to stray round the Court at that moment, La Boulaye started at sight of an unexpected face.

It was Mademoiselle de Bellecour, deathly pale and with the strained, piteous look that haunts the eyes of the

mad. He shivered at the thought of the peril to herself in coming into that assembly; then, recovering himself,

"CitizenPresident, Citizens all, I thank you; but I should be unappreciative of your kindness did I permit you

"Take him away," the President commanded impatiently, and as they removed him Mademoiselle crept from

the Court, weeping softly in her poignant grief, and realising that not so much for the President's ear as for

her own had La Boulaye uttered those words. They were meant to fortify her and to give her courage with the

assurance that Ombreval would not be betrayed. To give her courage! Her lip was twisted into an oddly bitter

smile at the reflection, as she stepped into her cabriolet, and bade the driver return to Choisy. Caron was

doing this for her. He was casting away his young, vigorous life, with all its wealth of promise, to the end that

her betrothed the man whom he believed she loved might be spared. The greatness, the nobility of the

sacrifice overwhelmed her. She remembered the thoughts that in the past she had entertained concerning this

young revolutionist. Never yet had she been able to regard him as belonging to the same order of beings as

herselfnot even when she had kissed his unconscious lips that evening on the Ridge road. An immeasurable

gulf had seemed to yawn between them the gulf between her nobility and his base origin. And now, as her

carriage trundled out of Paris and took the dusty high road, she shuddered, and her cheeks burned with shame

at the memory of the wrong that by such thoughts she had done him. Was she, indeed, the nobler? By

accident of birth, perhaps, but by nature proper he was assuredly the noblest man that ever woman bore.

In the Place de la Revolution a gruesome engine they called the guillotine was levelling all things, and fast

establishing the reign of absolute equality. But with all the swift mowing of its bloody scythe, not half so fast

did it level men as Mademoiselle de Bellecour's thoughts were doing that afternoon.

So marked was the disorder in her countenance when she reached Choisy that even unobservant Ombreval

whom continuous years of selfcomplacency had rendered singularly obtuse could not help but notice it,

and fearing, no doubt, that this agitation might in some way concern himself he even went the length of

"It is nothing," she answered, in a dejected voice. "At least, nothing that need cause you uneasiness. They

have sentenced La Boulaye to death," she announced, a spasm crossing her averted face.

"God knows they've sentenced innocent men enough. It is high time they began upon one another. It augurs

They were alone in Henriette's kitchen; the faithful woman was at market. Mademoiselle was warming

herself before the fire. Ombreval stood by the window. He had spent the time of her absence in the care of his

clothes, and he had contrived to dress himself with some semblance of his oldtime elegance which enhanced

"You seem to utterly forget, Monsieur, the nature of the charge upon which he has been arraigned," she said,

"Why, no," he answered, and he smiled airily; "he was sufficiently a fool to be lured by the brightest eyes in

France into a service for their mistress. My faith! He's not the first by many a thousand whom a woman's soft

"The degree in which you profit by the service he is doing those bright eyes, appears singularly beneath the

"What a jester you are becoming, ma mie," he laughed and at the sound she shuddered again and drew

mechanically nearer to the fire as though her shuddering was the result of cold.

"It is yet possible that he may not die," she said almost as if speaking to herself. "They have offered him his

"How interesting!" he murmured nonchalantly. "They have an odd way of dispensing justice."

"The conditions imposed are that he shall amend the wrong he has done, and deliver up to the Convention the

It was a gasp of sudden dismay that broke from the young nobleman. The colour swept out of his face, and

his eyes dilated with horror. Watching him Suzanne observed the sudden change, and took a fierce joy in

"Suzanne," he cried, coming a step nearer, and speaking eagerly; "he knows my whereabouts. He brought me

here himself. Are you mad, girl, that you can sit there so composedly and tell me this?"

"Do? Why, leave Choisy at once. Come; be stirring. In God's name, girl, bethink you that we have not a

moment to lose. I know these Republicans, and how far they are to be trusted. This fellow would betray me to

"You fool!" she broke in, an undercurrent of fierce indignation vibrating through her scorn. "What are you

saying? He would betray you? He?" She tossed her arms to Heaven, and burst into a laugh of infinite

derision. "Have no fear of that, M. le Vicomte, for you are dealing with a nature of a nobility that you cannot

so much as surmise. If he were minded to betray you, why did he not do so today, when they offered him

"But although he may have refused today," returned the Vicomte frenziedly, "he may think better of it

tomorrowperhaps even tonight. Ciel! Think of the risk we run; already it may be too late. Oh, why," he

demanded reproachfully, "why didn't you listen to me when, days ago, I counselled flight?"

" What?" he cried, and, his jaw fallen and his eyes wide, he regarded her. Then suddenly he caught her by the

arm and shook her roughly. "Are you mad?" he cried, in a frenzy of anger and fear. "Am I to die like a dog

that a scum of a Republican may save his miserable neck? Is this canaille of a revolutionist to betray me to

"Need I not?" he sneered. "Ma foi! but I know these ruffians. There is not an ounce of honour in the whole

"Fool!" she blazed, rising and confronting him with an anger before which he recoiled, appalled. "Do you

dare to stand there and prate of honour you? Do you forget why he stood his trial? Do you forget why he is

dying, and can you not see the vile thing that you are doing in arguing flight, that you talk of honour thus, and

deny his claim to it? Mon Dieu! Your effrontery stifles me! La Boulaye was right when he said that with us

He stared at her in uncomprehending wonder. He drew away another step. He accounted her mad, and, that

he might humour her, he put by his own fears for the moment a wonderful unselfishness this in the most

"My poor Suzanne," he murmured. "Our trouble has demoralised your understanding. You take a false view

"So I had thought," quoth she. "Yet since you can be silent and furtive in other matters, I beg that you will be

silent in this also. You talk in vain, Monsieur, in any case. For I am not minded to leave Choisy. If you urge

And with that she left him, to seek the solitude of her own room. In a passion of tears she flung herself upon

the little bed, and there she lay, a prey to such an anguish as had never touched her life before.

And now, in that hour of her grief, it came to her as the sun pierces the mist that she loved La Boulaye;

that she had loved him, indeed, since that night at Boisvert, although she had stifled the very thought, and

hidden it even from herself, as being unworthy in one of her station to love a man so lowlyborn as Caron.

But now, on the eve of his death, the truth would no longer be denied. It cried, perchance, the louder by virtue

of the pusillanimity of the craven below stairs in whose place Caron was to die; but anyhow, it cried so

loudly that it overbore the stern voice of the blood that had hitherto urged her to exclude the sentiment from

her heart. No account now did she take of any difference in station. Be she nobler a thousand times, be he

simpler a thousand times, the fact remained that she was a woman, he a man, and beyond that she did not

Low indeed were the Lilies of France when a daughter of the race of their upholders heeded them so little and

Henriette came to her that afternoon, and, all ignorant of the sources of her grief, she essayed to soothe and

In the evening Ombreval sent word that he wished to speak to her and that his need was urgent. But she

returned him the answer that she would see him in the morning. She was indisposed that evening, she added,

And in the morning they met, as she had promised him. Both pale, although from different causes, and both

showing signs of having slept but little. They broke their fast together and in silence, which at last he ended

by asking her whether the night had brought her reflection, and whether such reflection had made her

"It needed no reflection to make me realise our position better than I did yesterday," she answered. "I had

hoped that it would have brought you to a different frame of mind. But I am afraid that it has not done so."

"Have you thought," she asked at last, and her voice was cold and concentrated, "that this man is giving his

"I have feared," he answered, with incredible callousness, "that to save his craven skin he might elect to do

She looked at him in a mighty wonder, her dark eyes open to their widest, and looking black by the extreme

dilation of the pupils. So vast was her amazement at this unbounded egotism that it almost overruled her

"You cast epithets about you and bestow titles with a magnificent unconsciousness of how well they might fit

"In calling this man a craven, you take no thought for the cowardice that actuates you into hiding while he

"Cowardice?" he ejaculated. Then a flush spread on his face. "Ma foi, Mademoiselle," said he, in a quivering

voice, "your words betray thoughts that would be scarcely becoming in the Vicomtesse d'Ombreval."

"That, Monsieur, is a point that need give you little thought. I am not likely to become the Vicomtesse."

He bestowed her a look of mingling wonder and anger. Had he, indeed, heard her aright? Did her words

"Surely," he gasped, voicing those doubts of his, "you do not mean that you would violate your betrothal

"I mean, Monsieur," she cut in, "that I will give myself to no man I do not love."

"Your immodesty," said he, "falls in nothing short of the extraordinary frame of mind that you appear to be

developing in connection with other matters. We shall have you beating a drum and screeching the Ca ira in

She rose from the table, her face very white, her hand pressing upon her corsage. A moment she looked at

"Do not let us talk of ourselves," she exclaimed at last. "There is a man in the Conciergerie who dies at noon

unless you are forthcoming before then to save him. He himself will not betray you because he No matter

why, he will not. Tell me, Monsieur, how do you, who account yourself a man of honour above everything,

"Once he is dead and done with provided that he does not first betray me I trust that, no longer having

this subject to harp upon, you will consent to avail yourself of our passport, and accompany me out of

"Honour does not for instance, suggest to you that you should repair to the Conciergerie and take the place

"At last I understand what has been in your mind since yesterday, what has made you so odd in your words

and manner. You have thought that it was perhaps my duty as a man of honour to go and effect the rescue of

this fellow. But, my dear child, bethink you of what he is, and of what I am. Were he a gentleman my equal

my course would stand clearly defined. I should not have hesitated a moment. But this canaille! Ma foi! let

"I understand you," she answered him, very coldly. "You use a coward's arguments, and you have the

effrontery to consider yourself a man of honour a nobleman. I no longer marvel that there is a revolution in

She stood surveying him for a moment, then she quietly left the room. He stared after her.

His humour was one of pitying patience for a girl that had not the wit to see that to ask him the most noble

d'Ombreval to die that La Boulaye might live was very much like asking him to sacrifice his life to save a

It wanted but a few minutes to noon as the condemned of the day were being brought out of the Conciergerie

to take their places in the waiting tumbrils. Fourteen they numbered, and there was a woman amongst them as

composed as any of the men. She descended the prison steps in nonchalant conversation with a witty young

man of some thirty years of age, who had been one of the ornaments of the prerevolutionary salons. Had the

pair been on the point of mounting a wedding coach they could not have shown themselves in better spirits.

Aristocrats, too, were the remaining twelve, with one exception, and if they had not known how to live, at

least they could set a very splendid example of how to die. They came mostly in pairs, and the majority of

them emulating the first couple and treating the whole matter as a pleasantry that rather bored them by the

element of coarseness introduced by the mob. One or two were pale, and their eyes wore a furtive, frightened

look. But they valiantly fought down their fears, and for all that the hearts within them may have been sick

with horror, they contrived to twist a smile on to their pale lips. They did not lack for stout patterns of high

bearing, and in addition they had their own arrogant pride the pride that had brought them at last to this pass

to sustain them in their extremity. Noblesse les obligeait. The rabble, the canaille of the new regime, might

do what they would with their bodies, but their spirits they could not break, nor overcome their indomitable

pride. By the brave manner of their death it remained for them to make amends for the atrocious manner of

their lives, and such a glamour did they shed upon themselves by the same brave manner, that it compelled

sympathy and admiration of those that beheld them, and made upon humanity an impression deep enough to

Like heroes, like sainted martyrs, they died, these men who, through generation after generation, had ground

and crushed the people 'neath the iron heel of tyranny and oppression, until the people had, of a sudden, risen

and reversed the position, going to excesses, in their latelyawakened wrath, that were begotten of the

Last of this gallant and spruce company (for every man had donned his best, and dressed himself with the

utmost care) came Caron La Boulaye. He walked alone, for although their comrade in death, he was their

comrade in nothing else. Their heads might lie together in the sawdust of Sanson's basket, but while they

lived, no contact would they permit themselves, of body or of soul, with this sansculotte. Had they known

why he died, perhaps, they had shown him fellowship. But in their nescience of the facts, it would need more

than death to melt them into a kindness to a member of the Convention, for death was the only thing they had

As he was about to pass out, a gaoler suddenly thrust forward a hand to detain him, and almost

simultaneously the door, which had swung to behind the last of his deathfellows, reopened to admit the

He eyed Caron narrowly as he advanced into the hall, and at the composure evident in the young man's

bearing, his glance seemed to kindle with admiration, for all that his lips remained cruel in their tightened

Caron gave him goodday with a friendly smile, and before Robespierre could utter a word the young man

"I had a great object to serve, Maximilien," he concluded, "and my only regret is that it should have run

counter to your wishes. I owe you so much everything in fact that I am filled with shame at the thought of

how ill a return I am making you. My only hope is that by my death you will consider that I have sufficiently

"Fool!" croaked Robespierre, "you are sacrificing yourself for some chimaera and the life you are saving is

that of a very worthless and vicious individual. Of your ingratitude to me wee will not speak. But even now,

He held out ]his hands to him, and entreaty was stamped upon Robespierre's countenance to a degree which

perhaps no man had yet seen. "Bethink you, cher Caron " he began again. But the young man shook his

"My friend, my best of friends," he exclaimed, "I beg that you will not make it harder for me. I am resolved,

and your entreaties do but heighten my pain of thwarting your the only pain that in this supreme hour I am

experiencing. It is not a difficult thing to die, Maximilien. Were I to live, I must henceforth lead a life of

unsatisfied desire. I must even hanker and sigh after a something that is unattainable. I die, and all this is

extinguished with me. At the very prospect my desires fade immeasurably. Let me go in peace, and with your

Robespierre eyed him a moment or two in astonishment. Then he made an abrupt gesture of impatience.

"Fool that you are! It is suicide you are committing. And for what? For a dream a shadow. Is this like a man,

Caron'? Is this Will you be still, you animal?" he barked at a gaoler who had once before touched him upon

But the man leant forward, and said some words hurriedly into Robespierre's ear, which cast the petulance

"Ah?" he said at last. Then, with a sudden briskness: "Let the Citizen La Boulaye not go forth until I return,"

he bade the gaoler; and to Caron he said: "You will have the goodness to await my return."

With that he turned and stepped briskly across the hall and through the door, which the gaoler, all equality

notwithstanding, hastened to open for him with as much servility as ever the haughtiest aristocrat had

Saving that single gaoler, La Boulaye was alone in the spacious hall of the Conciergerie. From without they

heard the wild clamouring and Cairaing of the mob. Chafing at this fresh delay, which was as a prolongation

of his deathagony, La Boulaye was pacing to and fro, the ring of his footsteps on the stone floor yielding a

"Is he never returning?" he cried at last; and as if in answer to his question, the drums suddenly began to roll,

and the vociferations of the rabble swelled in volume and grew shriller. "What is that?" he inquired.

The gaoler, on whose dirty face some measure of surprise was manifested, approached the little grating that

"Sacrenom!" he swore. "The tumbrils are moving. They have left you behind, Citizen."

But La Boulaye gathered no encouragement, such as the gaoler thought he might, from that contingency. He

but imagined that it was Robespierre's wish to put him back for another day in the hope that he might still

loosen his tongue. An oath of vexation broke from him, and he stamped his foot impatiently upon the floor.

Then the door opened suddenly, and Robespierre held it whilst into the room came a woman, closely veiled,

whose tall and shapely figure caused the young Deputy's breath to flutter. The Incorruptible followed her, and

And presently, when those three stood alone, the woman raised her veil and disclosed the face he had

expected the beautiful face of Suzanne de Bellecour, but, alas! woefully pale and anguished of expression.

She advanced a step towards Caron, and then stood still, encountering his steadfast, wonderstruck gaze, and

seeming to falter. With a sob, at last she turned to Maximilien, who had remained a pace or two behind.

Robespierre started out of his apparent abstraction. He peered at her with his shortsighted eyes, and from

her to Caron. Then he came forward a step and cleared his throat, rather as a trick of oratory than to relieve

"To put it briefly, my clear Caron," said he, "the Citoyenne here has manifested a greater solicitude for your

life than you did yourself, and she has done me the twofold service of setting it in my power to punish an

enemy, and to preserve a friend from a death that was very imminent. In the eleventh hour she came to me to

make terms for your pardon. She proposed to deliver up to me the person of the cidevant Vicomte

d'Ombreval provided that I should grant you an unconditional pardon. You can imagine, my good Caron,

with what eagerness I agreed to her proposal, and with what pleasure I now announce to you that you are

"Free!" gasped La Boulaye, his eyes travelling fearfully from Robespierre to Mademoiselle, and remaining

riveted upon the latter as though he were attempting to penetrate into the secrets of her very soul.

"Practically free," answered the Incorruptible. "You may leave the Conciergerie when you please, thought I

shall ask you to remain at your lodging in the Rue Nationale until this Ombreval is actually taken. Once he

has been brought to Paris, I shall send you your papers that you may leave France, for, much though I shall

regret your absence, I think that it will be wiser for you to make your fortune elsewhere after what has

"You have done this?" he cried, in a quivering voice. "You have betrayed the man to whom you were

"Do not use that word, Monsieur," she cried, with a shudder. "My action cannot be ranked among betrayals.

He would have let you go to the guillotine in his stead. He had not the virtue to come forward, for all that he

knew that you must die if he did not. On the contrary, such a condition of things afforded him amusement,

matter to scorn and insult you with. He would have complacently allowed a dozen men to have gone to the

"True!" she made answer; "but I had to choose between the man it had been arranged I should marry and the

man I lowed." A flush crimsoned her cheek, and her voice sank almost to a whisper. "And to save the man I

The name burst from his lips in a shout of wonder and of joy ineffable. In a stride he seemed to cover the

distance between them, and he caught her to him as the door slammed on the discreetly departing