“Let her know.”
More he dared not say, but to his astute official that was enough, and with a sorrowful face he delivered to Suzanne, a few hours later, the news of La Boulaye's definite arrest and removal to the Luxembourg.
At Brutus's description of the scene there had been 'twixt Robespierre and Caron she sighed heavily, and her lashes grew wet.
“Poor, faithful La Boulaye!” she murmured. “God aid him now.”
She bore the news to d'Ombreval, and upon hearing it he tossed aside the book that had been engrossing him and looked up, a sudden light of relief spreading on his weak face.
“It is the end,” said he, as though no happier consummation could have attended matters, “and we have no more to wait for. Shall we set out to-day?” he asked, and urged the wisdom of making haste.
“I hope and I pray God that it may not be the end, as you so fondly deem it, Monsieur,” she answered him. “But whether it is the end or not, I am resolved to wait until there is no room for any hope.”
“As you will,” he sighed wearily, “The issue of it all will probably be the loss of our heads. But even that might be more easily accomplished than to impart reason to a woman.”
“Or unselfishness, it seems, to a man,” she returned, as she swept angrily from the room.