'That you were slain, or desperately wounded. Oh, Heaven, how was it that I did not die on hearing his terrible words, for they ring yet in my ears! Bitter was the suffering they cost me! I rushed from the auberge, and desired him to lead me to you; but, with one of his malevolent smiles, he told me, that he had decoyed me for himself—that it was all a pretty little snare, that he loved me, and so forth. I then threw off my hood, declared my name and rank, commanding him on his manhood and allegiance to lead me to my brother. Our worthy petardier knew me then! Oh, had you seen how quickly the brutal tyrant changed to the cringing slave! He obeyed me; but never can I tell you all I endured until De Vaudemont gave me tidings of your safety; nor can I describe the emotions that stirred my heart, Arthur, when I saw you—you whom I loved so tenderly—'
'Ah, mademoiselle—'
'When I saw you standing in that crowded street, looking so wildly and bewildered, crest-fallen, bareheaded, and a prisoner—pale, weary, and on foot—dearest Arthur!'
'You did see me then?'
'But girt round, hemmed in by iron etiquette, the centre of a thousand eyes, I dared not even accord a kind glance towards you. In courts we learn sorely to school our hearts, Arthur.'
'And to trample on the hearts of others, too.'
'You wrong me—do not say so.'
The assurance that she still loved me made me once more calm; and such is the caprice of the human heart, that, at times, strange emotions of artificial coldness flitted through my breast.
'Arthur,' said she; 'how changed and how diffident these twenty-four hours have made you?'
'Mademoiselle,' I replied, seeing the madness of again yielding to my emotions; 'I am diffident; because I am not like that brave Pappenheim, and because my love is sincere, though it merits no return—from you, at least.'