“The sorry romance!” she said, bitterly. “It has brought me to this!”
“It has brought others to their senses,” I said, sharply.
“To their knees, you mean!”
“Yes—to their knees at last.”
“To the guillotine—yes!”
“No, madame, to pray for their native land—too late!”
“I think,” she said, “that we are not fitted to understand each other.” 363
“It remains,” I said, “for me to thank you for your kindness to us all, and for your generosity to me in my time of need.... It is quite useless for me to dream of repaying it.... I shall never forget it.... I ask leave to make my adieux, madame.”
She flushed to her temples, but did not answer.
As I stood looking at her, a vivid flare of light flashed through the window behind me, crimsoning the walls, playing over the ceiling with an infernal radiance. At the same instant the gate outside crashed open, a hubbub of voices swelled into a roar; then the outer doors were flung back and a score of men sprang into the hallway, soldiers with the red torch-light dancing on rifle-barrels and bayonets.