He walked rapidly to the door, the governor, at his heels, the latter throwing the words to St. Just on his way out, "I will have everything put in order for your journey at once."
Left to himself, St. Just tottered to a seat and panted audibly, for such were the strength and conflict of his emotions and the violent beating of his heart, which seemed struggling to burst from its fleshy prison, that his breath could only come in short, quick sobs. He seemed to have withered up under the fire of Napoleon's scorching words. Shame, remorse, hatred, thirst for vengeance, and a sense of utter impotence, all fought together within him, and were tearing him to pieces in the contest. Oh! that he could relive the past, blot out the present, cast in a nobler mould his future! But alas! he knew the hopelessness of his aspirations! He had the rectitude to wish aright, but not the will to do. He knew that, in Halima's hands, he would be as wax. Honor, for him, involved a life apart from her; for the Emperor, in sending him to England, was, without meaning it, sending him to dishonor.
For one mad moment, he thought of refusing to obey the Emperor's command, and submitting to the consequences. It was certain death; but what of that? It would save his honor. And the pain; that would be only momentary; he had suffered far more anguish in the battlefield; and to be shot was a fitting end to a soldier's life.
But death meant never again to set eyes on Halima. No, he could not face it. Not yet.
An hour later he had left Vincennes, and, three days afterwards, he was in London.
At once he made his way to Hartford House, his mind disturbed with mingled hopes and fears. For aught he knew, his wife no longer lived, and, if she did, it did not follow that she was even in England.
But his mind was quickly set at rest on both these points. Of the servants who came in answer to his summons he inquired whether Halima still lived there, asking for her in her mother's name, for he did not know whether she had thought fit to adopt his own.
The man replied that Madame de Moncourt still lived there and was at home. Oh! the relief at this intelligence! By his emotions at that moment, St. Just knew what would have been his feelings, had the reply been different. Yes, Halima was still all in all to him. His spirits sprang up with a bound; he had made his inquiry in a tone of mingled eagerness and dread; but now his whole mien and manner changed; a gleam of pleasure lighted up his face, and his tone was bright and cheerful.
"Will you tell Madame," he said, "that a messenger has arrived from France on business of importance, and begs the favor of an interview?"
Since the servant did not know him, he would not give his name.