“What do you say, M. Boppard?”
“He was a liar, monsieur. He used us to his purpose and, when that was accomplished, he flung us aside.”
“And his purpose?”
The sizar dropped his voice to a whisper.
“Our queen, monsieur,” he said, “our queen, that represented to us the beautiful ideal of all our most passionate aspirations! He seemed to avow in his attitude towards her the sincerity of his code of honourable socialism. He lied to us all. He converted her nobility to the uses of a common intrigue; and from the consequences of his crime he fled like a coward, and left her to bear the curses of her people and the sneers of the community.”
“Yes?” said Ned; and he took a long draught, for he was thirsty. Indeed, he had foreseen all this.
The student’s eyes filled with tears.
“She was much to us—to me, this Mademoiselle Lambertine,” he said pitifully. “If there were mercy in the world, she should have been allowed to bury her dishonour with her dead child in the church yonder.”
Ned reached across and patted his companion’s arm.
“You are a very amiable little Boppard,” he said.