The count and his daughter receiyed Schneider. He had not taken the name of Euloge for nothing. At the end of ten minutes Clotilde asked herself if this could be the man who had received her so brutally at Strasbourg.
The count, reassured, left the room to attend to some arrangements. Schneider offered his arm to the young girl, and led her to the window, which he opened.
The guillotine stood opposite, gayly decked with flowers and ribbons.
"Take your choice," he said, "between a scaffold and the altar."
"What do you mean?" asked Clotilde, trembling.
"To-morrow you must either be my wife or the count must die."
Clotilde blanched to the color of the white cambric handkerchief which she held in her hand.
"My father would prefer to die," she replied.
"And therefore I leave it to you to acquaint him with my request."