"Paris! Paris! Paris!"
Behind the desk he stumbled, through the little door, and dropped to his knees before Saint Genevieve, the protector of the city which he loved.
"You haf done eet!" he murmured, looking up at her with limpid eyes.
"You haf seen how I suffered, unt you haf taken pity. Gott sie dank!
Gott sie dank!"
CHAPTER XXI
Pardon
As Tellier's voice died away along the hall, a silence fell upon the room which he had left—a silence from which the duchess was the first to rouse herself.
"Come, Fritz," she said, "we must go. We have work to do," and she held out her hand to him.
He took a step toward her, hesitated, stopped.
"In a moment, madame," said he. "Before I go, I have an apology to make and a pardon to crave."
"Of whom?" demanded the duchess.