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What possible answer was there to such a confession as this? "Deputy Latour became a power," he went on quietly. "Many things became possible. Mademoiselle had a lover, Lucien Bruslart, a villain, a liar to her and his country. Raymond Latour, with all his faults, was a better man than he, more honest, more worthy a woman's regard, no matter who that woman might be."
Of my own will I shall not leave Paris again until I have contrived to set Lucien Bruslart free." "He is not a prisoner, mademoiselle. I have already sent for him." "Is that safe?" asked Barrington, quickly. "For you, I mean?" "I think so. At any rate, it was necessary." "Do you say he is not a prisoner?" said Jeanne. "He may be here at any moment," said Lafayette. "Have we been deceived?"
Whether it was a guess, or whether some one recalled her face some time after she had been allowed to pass, I do not know, nor does it matter much. It got wind that Mademoiselle St. Clair had entered Paris, and where in Paris would she be most likely to go? to Citizen Bruslart's. A crowd was quickly on its way there. Bruslart was away from home, but they would go in, and there they found her.
I wish to Heaven I did." "It suits my purpose to give you time to think better of your answer," said Latour. "You shall even buy your miserable life by telling the truth. When you tell me where Mademoiselle St. Clair is, you shall leave this prison, not before. I will even do something to get you safely out of Paris and to the seacoast." "I tell you I do not know. Find Bruslart, ask him."
"Mademoiselle's fortune," corrected Legrand. The two men looked at each other, and understood each other well. Bruslart knew that the doctor was quite prepared to betray him if he did not come to his terms. Legrand knew that Bruslart was in dire straits, and that once in the hands of the Convention his doom was sealed. In one sense the doctor was the more honest of the two.
Beautiful she certainly was, or Lucien Bruslart would have taken little interest in her. Beauty was as necessary to him as luxury, and in this case was even more dangerous. Here was another proof that he was no coward, or he would surely not have placed himself in the hands of Pauline Vaison. She was dark, her figure rather full, voluptuous yet perfect in contour.
A woman's voice cried out that it appeared as though Citizen Latour loved the emigré himself, and laughter and a nodding of heads greeted the sally. A man shouted that Deputy Latour had ceased to be a true patriot, or he would never have spoken for such a prisoner. There was uproar, silenced by the president's bell a pause, then sentence: Lucien Bruslart was condemned.
"The way is plain, let us arrange everything before Legrand returns," said Bruslart. "There is nothing to arrange. This little cockloft does not fill the whole of this upper story. There is another attic on the other side of that partition, with a cupboard in it.
Some, like Monsieur de Lafayette, true patriots at heart, had attempted to direct the trouble, and being caught in its cyclonic fury were at grips with death and disaster; some, like Lucien Bruslart, having themselves or their friends to serve, openly threw in their lot with the people, playing the while a double game which kept them walking on the extreme edge of a precipice; and there were others who, finding their bravery and honesty of no avail, realizing that it was now too late to escape out of the country, hid themselves in humble lodgings, or were concealed in the homes of faithful servants.
So far his scheme was complete, but he was not thinking of it as he made his way toward the more central part of the city, taking care to appear as little of a stranger as possible. Was Lucien Bruslart to be trusted? This was the question he asked himself over and over again, finding no satisfactory answer. The reason which lay behind such a question could not be ignored.
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