"That it will be no great misfortune if we should not find her."
"If we do not, Lorin, I shall die."
"The devil!" exclaimed the young man; "it was, then, of this love that you lately so nearly died."
"Yes," replied Maurice.
Lorin reflected an instant. "Maurice," said he, "it is now nearly eleven o'clock; this quarter is deserted; here is a stone seat, particularly adapted for the reception of two friends. Accord me the favor of a private interview, as they used to say, under the ancient régime. I give you my word of honor that I shall speak only in prose."
They seated themselves upon the bench.
"Speak!" said Maurice, resting his aching head upon his hand.
"Without exordium, periphrasis, or commentary, I tell you one thing, old fellow,—it is this, that we are ruining ourselves, or rather that you are ruining us."
"How so?" demanded Maurice.
"There is, my friend, a decree issued by the Committee of Public Safety, which declares every man a traitor to his country who enters into any relationship with the acknowledged enemies of the said country. Eh! do you know this decree?"