"I have come to you," she answered simply, putting her hands in his. "When I heard that you had been arrested and put in prison, I knew that I should come and find you. You see all France was not wide enough to keep me from you."
"Then you are not a prisoner?" he exclaimed joyfully.
"No, I came in of my own free will. No one suspects who I am."
"Merciful God, do you know the risk you run? Why have you done this?"
"Have you not risked your life more than once for my sake? Did you think that Edmé de Rochefort would do less for you?"
"Edmé!"
For a moment the prison walls vanished. His shattered plans were forgotten. The redemption of the Republic became as nothing; he only knew that Edmé de Rochefort had proved beyond all human doubt her love for him, and that it was her loyal, loving heart he could feel throbbing, as he pressed her to his breast.
Only for a moment, then the full realization of the terrible risk she ran smote him with redoubled force. He turned pale. She had never seen him so deadly white before, and it frightened her.
"Hush," he whispered before she could speak, and stepping cautiously to the grated door he peered out between the bars. As far as the elbow of the corridor, he could see no one. With a sigh of relief he came back to her. His fears for her safety restored the activity of his mind.
"It is dangerous for you to go about the city. The merest accident, the slightest inquiry in regard to you might lead to your detection."