I limped in and sat down, escorted by expressions of compassion from Pantin, who mingled these with shouts for Annette. In a little time Madame Pantin appeared, and never have I seen so great a resemblance between husband and wife as between these two. There was the same small, shrivelled figure, the same clear-cut features, the same white eyebrows standing prominently out over the same grey eyes—their height, walk, and tone of voice even, was almost the same. Madame, however, had an eye to business, which her husband, although I understood him to be a notary, had not discovered to me, and whilst he went off to see, as he said, to the arrangements for the horses, Madame Annette struck a bargain with me for my lodging, which I closed with at once, as I was in sufficient funds to be a little extravagant. This matter being arranged by my instant agreement to her terms, she showed me to my rooms, which were on the second floor, and commanded a good view of the river face; and, pocketing a week's rental in advance, the old lady retired, after recommending me to an ordinary where the food was excellent and the Frontignac old.

I spent the remainder of the day doing nothing, going forth but to sup quietly at the Two Ecus, which I found fully upheld the good name Madame Pantin had given it, and returning early to my rooms.

Sitting in an easy chair at a window overlooking the Seine, I lost myself for a while in a dreamland of reverie. Let it be remembered that I was a man of action, who had been awakened by the love he bore for a woman to a sense of his own unfitness, and it will be realised how difficult it was for me to look into myself. I tried to tick off my failings in my mind, and found they were hydra-headed. There were some that I alone could not combat, and I hated myself for my want of moral strength. I had groped towards religion for aid, to the faith of my fathers; but there were doctrines and canons there that I could not reconcile with my inward conscience. I could not believe all I was asked to take on trust, and I felt I was insensibly turning towards the simpler faith of the Huguenot. But here, again, I was in troublous waters. I had got over the sinful pride that prevented me from approaching my God in humbleness, but I found that prayer, though it gave momentary relief, did not give permanent strength to resist, and a sort of spiritual despair fell upon me. Along with this was an unalterable longing to be near the woman I loved, to feel her presence about me, to know that she loved me as I loved her, and, in short, I would rather go ten times up to a battery of guns than feel over again the desolation and agony of spirit that was on me then. So I spent an hour or so in a state of hopeless mental confusion, and at last I cut it short by pulling myself up abruptly. Win or lose, I would follow the dictates of my conscience. If I could, I would win the woman I loved, and with God's help and her aid lead such a life as would bring us both to Him when we died. It was a quick, unspoken prayer that went up from me, and it brought back in a moment its comfort.

Jacques' coming into the room at this juncture was a relief. He lit the tall candles that stood in the grotesque bronze holders that projected from the wall, and then, drawing the curtains, inquired if I needed his services further that night.

'I don't think so, Jacques—but stay!'

'Monsieur.'

'How do we stand?'

'Oh, well enough, monsieur. Better really than for a long time. We have three horses and their equipment—although one of Monsieur's pistols is broken—and a full hundred and fifty crowns.'

'A perfect fortune—are you sure of the crowns?'

'As I am of being here, monsieur.'