"This, Madame. A long time ago, when I was a soldier in America under Lafayette, Monsieur Calvert did me a great service—he saved my life—he was kind to me. He is the only man, the only person in the world I love, and I have sworn to repay that debt of gratitude. I was with Monsieur, as his servant, at Azay-le-Roi, and I guessed, Madame, what passed there between you and him. Afterward I was with him in Paris, and I saw how he suffered, and I swore, if the thing were ever possible, I would make you suffer as he suffered. There is but one thing I would rather do than make you suffer—and that is to make him happy. The passport for the brother of Madame Calvert will be ready at six this evening and Monsieur will be free to leave Paris. Do you understand now, Madame?"
"It is impossible," she says, faintly, leaning for support on Mr. Morris, who stood by, unspeakably astonished at the strange scene taking place.
"Impossible? Then I am sorry," he says. "Frankly, there is but one way, Madame, for you to obtain the passport you wish, and that is by becoming an American subject, the wife of Monsieur Calvert. I can interest myself in the matter only on those conditions. I have but to mention to Danton my good reasons for serving so close a relation of Monsieur Calvert, and he will be inclined to interest himself in obtaining the freedom of Monsieur d'Azay—for such it really is. Should he still be disinclined to serve a friend who has stood him well"—and his face darkened ominously and a sinister smile came to his lips—"I have but to recall to his mind a certain scene which took place in the Cafe de l'École some years ago in which Monsieur Calvert was an actor, and I can answer for it that Monsieur d'Azay leaves Paris to-night. Shall I do these things or not? If not, I think 'tis sure that, let Madame and Monsieur Morris apply to whom they may, Danton and I will see to it that no passport for Monsieur d'Azay is granted. Is it still impossible?" he asks, with an insolent smile.
The girl turned piteously from Bertrand to Mr. Morris and back again, as if seeking some escape from the trap in which she was caught. Her pale lips trembled.
"Is it impossible?" again asks Bertrand, noting her pallor and cruel indecision.
"No, no," she cries, suddenly, shuddering and putting out her hand.
"Then all will be in readiness at six, Monsieur," says Bertrand, addressing himself to Mr. Morris.
"A word aside with you," he says to Bertrand, and, leading Adrienne to a seat, he went back to Bertrand, who waited for him beside the door.
"What is the meaning of this extraordinary scene?" he asked, sternly.
The man shrugged his shoulders. "Just what I have said. You know yourself, Monsieur, whether or not I am devoted to Monsieur Calvert. For Madame de St. André I care less than nothing," he said, snapping his fingers carelessly. "But Monsieur Calvert loves her—it seems a pretty enough way of making them happy, though 'tis a strange métier for me—arranging love-matches among the nobility! However, stranger things than that are happening in France. Besides, it is necessary," he said, his light manner suddenly changing to one more serious. "I swear it is the only way of getting d'Azay out of Paris. I doubt if even Danton, urged on by me, could obtain a passport for him to quit the city. But I can answer for one for the brother of Madame Calvert, wife of the former secretary of Monsieur Jefferson, friend of the present Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States of America to France."