"Listen," he said,—"if you listen attentively you will hear the murmur of Paris calling you back. Almost you can hear the falling of a thousand feet upon the pavements of the boulevards, the voice of life. You may find an asylum there. Who can tell?"
They heard the soft swirl of a woman's gown passing over the marble floor. They all turned. It was Madame Christophor who stood there.
"Still here?" she remarked.
Julien frowned.
"It is not my intention to linger," he assured her. "Prince von
Falkenberg has given me your message. I am prepared to go."
Lady Anne moved hastily forward.
"Do you know," she cried, "that they will kill him? Do you know that this man," she added, pointing to Falkenberg, "has admitted it? Would you dare to send him out to be butchered in the streets?"
"The young lady exaggerates," Falkenberg protested. "This is a perfectly respectable neighborhood. What possible harm can come to an English gentleman? Besides, I have offered him, if he will, the protection of my car."
Madame Christophor sighed. She waved back Sir Julien.
"Alas!" she exclaimed, "there has been a slight misunderstanding."