Again and again did they who knew her best present themselves, but with the same ill success. Some she drove rudely back, to others she made a sign to retire.
‘Mayhap the person is not present that you wish for,’ said Madame Roland softly.
‘He is here,’ said she gently.
Name after name of those around did Madame Roland whisper, but all without avail. At last, as Langrés presented himself, Marietta turned with a sort of aversion from him and said—
‘I am in search of a prince, and you bring me a butcher.’
This insulting speech was not heard without a smile by some who knew this man’s origin, and detested the coarse ruffianism of his address.
‘Parbleau, Madame! if you want princes you must go and seek them at the Français,’ said Langrés angrily, as he dropped back into the crowd.
Meanwhile, impelled by a strong desire to test the reality of her vision, Gerald made his way through the throng, and dropping on one knee, took her hand in his own.
A start and a faint exclamation—half surprise, half joy—broke from her as she felt his touch. She passed her hand over his face, and through his long hair, and then bending down kissed him on the forehead. She whispered a few words rapidly in his ear, and sank back exhausted.
‘She has fainted! Bring water quickly,’ cried Lanthenas.