"Pardieu! does not all revolve upon the co-operation of this young municipal? Was it not he who, without knowing it, was to open the road for us to the queen?"
"That is true!" said Morand, confounded.
"You see, then," said Dixmer, knitting his brows, "that at any price we must renew our intimacy with this young man."
"But if he refuse, if he fear to compromise himself?"
"Listen!" said Dixmer, "I will question Geneviève; she saw him last, perhaps she may know something more."
"Dixmer," said Morand, "it is with pain I see you mixing Geneviève with all our plots; not that I fear any indiscretion on her part. O great God! the drama we are acting is a dreadful one, and I at once blush and tremble to place the head of a woman at stake."
"The head of a woman," said Dixmer, "weighs as heavily as that of a man, where stratagem, candor, and beauty can do as much and sometimes even more than force, strength, power, or courage. Geneviève shares in our convictions and our sympathies. Geneviève shall also share our fate."
"Well, my friend," said Morand, "I have said all I ought to say. Geneviève is in every way worthy of the mission you have given her, or rather, that she has taken upon herself. It is saints who become martyrs."
And he held out his delicate and effeminate hand to Dixmer, who roughly pressed it between his own. Then Dixmer, recommending Morand and his companions to watch with increased vigilance, quitted them, and entered Geneviève's apartments.