"You swear you will not use it?"
"I swear. I shall keep it as a memorial of your fidelity. If ever I should be in dire distress and want your help, I shall send this sword-hilt to you. Then, come to me at once, for I shall need you sorely. Be careful for yourself; for Josephine's sake be careful, and do not needlessly meet danger. It cuts me to the heart to part with you, but you must go."
Her voice was broken with her sobs, and there was a hopelessness about her tone that went straight to her hearer's heart.
He went down on his knee and passionately kissed her hand. A bracelet containing a miniature of herself dropped from her wrist. He stooped and picked it up.
"Keep it, my friend," she said, "in memory of the unhappy Josephine."
She bent forward and brushed his forehead with her lips. "We shall not meet again, except to help him who has rejected me. If I seem unfaithful it is to serve him; to regain his love. But now he loves me not, so this token of affection to a faithful friend is no treason to him. Farewell, my dear, you must not tarry."
But, ere the last words had left her mouth, St. Just had sprung to his feet. Her words and the touch of her lips upon his brow had sent the blood coursing madly through his veins. His heart was in a ferment. Before she had divined his purpose, he had taken her in his arms and was passionately kissing her. Was it his fancy only, or did she really return his kisses? At least, she showed no resentment. "Farewell," again she murmured faintly. She struggled slightly to free herself, and he released her.
Then he ran to an open window and, with one last look at her, he vaulted through it and sped across the garden. On he flew, scarce noticing where he went, intent only on cutting one of the main avenues, for the time was going on, and his hour of grace would soon be spent; and then, unless he should be well clear of the precincts of the palace, the full weight of Napoleon's fury would be hurled at him. Soon he struck into a broad drive, and, by following this, it led him to the Porte Dauphin. Passing through the gate, he was hurrying onwards, when he felt a slight touch on his arm. With a start, he checked his footsteps and, not knowing whether it proceeded from friend or foe, instinctively he laid his hand upon his sword. He saw two figures in the darkness, a man and a boy; the man holding two horses by the bridles.
A silvery laugh rang out upon the stillness of the night and, the next moment, two voices spoke, together:—"Master!" "Henri!" The speakers were Mahmoud and his mistress.
"Halima!" cried St. Just astounded. "How come you here?"