"Oh, how terrible!" murmured the young damsel.
"One moment, monsieur le poëte," said Madame de Rémur. "How does it end? I warn you that I shall not like your play if it ends unhappily."
"You shall judge of that in a moment, madame," replied the poet, bowing to her graciously.
"In the third act," he continued, "the lovers are brought together under the shadow of the guillotine, whither she has followed him. The knife falls upon both of them in quick succession, and their souls are united in the next world, never to be separated more."
"What a beautiful ending," cried Mademoiselle de Bellœil, and the exclamation on the part of the audience showed that her sentiment was echoed generally.
"Continue," said Madame de Rémur. "I was afraid it was going to end unhappily."
The chevalier took a pinch of snuff and settled himself back in the arm-chair which was accorded to him as a tribute to his advanced age; and the poet unfolded his manuscript and began to read.
It was an intensely appreciative audience that listened to the dramatic work of the poet. They followed with breathless interest the meeting of the young lovers in the hall of the Luxembourg; assisted smilingly at their rendezvous in the corridors and shadowy corners of the old prison; and sighed gently during the most tender passages. At the scene of separation, tears of regret flowed freely, and in the meeting in the last act, tears of joy and sorrow mingled together in sympathetic unison.
As the young poet ended he folded up his manuscript and bowed his blushing acknowledgments to the storm of applause that greeted him.
The wave of approbation had not ceased to resound through the room when the outer door opened, and the jailer and some half a dozen gendarmes entered abruptly.