"Are you glad now, Adrienne?" asked Calvert, looking at her tenderly.
"Yes," she said, quietly.
"And will you be content to leave this France of yours and come with me to America? There is a home waiting for you there—'tis not a splendid place like those you know, but only a country house that stands near the noblest and loveliest river of the land, upon whose banks peace and happiness dwell." As he spoke, grim sounds of tumult, cannonading, fierce cries, and hoarse commands came to them from the hot, crowded street below, but they did not heed them—they were far away from that terrible, doomed city. Words were scarcely needed—they stood there soul to soul, alone in all the world, and happy.
"I am going back to that land of mine, where there is work for me to do. Will you not go with me? There is nothing more we can do here. The last chance to save their Majesties is gone. Will you leave this troubled, fated land and come with me to that other one, where I will make you forget the horrors, the sufferings you have endured in this—where I swear I will make you happy? Will you go to this America of mine?" he asked.
She gazed into the eyes she so loved and trusted with a glance as serene and true as their own.
"I will go," she said.