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I shall obey the voice of my conscience in the matter, and I shall wait until we hear again from La Boulaye. That is the message I am about to return him by his servant." The Vicomte watched her fling out of the room, and his weak face was now white with anger. He rapped out an oath as he turned to the window again. "Mad!" he muttered, through-set teeth. "Mad as a sun-struck dog.
But the morrow early in the forenoon brought a factor with which he had not reckoned, in the person of the Incorruptible himself. Robespierre had returned in hot haste to Paris upon receiving Varennes' message, and he repaired straight to the house of La Boulaye.
"A trifling affair 'twixt M. la Boulaye and me, with which I will not trouble you." "It is not nothing, my lord," cried La Boulaye, his voice vibrating oddly. "It is that I love your daughter and that I have told her of it." He was in a very daring mood that morning. The Marquis glanced at him in dull amazement. Then a flush crept into his sallow cheeks and mounted to his brow.
And what is history but the repetition of events under similar circumstances with different peoples. It will come in France, and it will come soon, for it is very direly needed." "I know, I know, old master," broke in La Boulaye; "but how shall all this help me? For all that I have the welfare of France at heart, it weighs little with me at the moment by comparison with my own affairs.
"Is it that you are in love with this wretch!" "Madame!" The exclamation was laden with blended wonder, dignity, and horror. "Well?" demanded Madame de Bellecour severely. "Answer me, Suzanne. Are you in love with this La Boulaye?" "Is there the need to answer?" quoth the girl scornfully.
The chamber was crowded with people in holiday attire, and the centre of attraction was a well-set-up peasant with a happy, sun-tanned face, whose golden locks were covered by a huge round hat decked with a score of gaily-coloured ribbons. At sight of him La Boulaye remembered that it was Charlot's wedding-day.
He turned from the mirror, his resolve now firm, and going to the door he called his official. Briefly he instructed Brutus touching the packing of a valise, which he would probably need that night. "You are going a journey, Citizen?" inquired Brutus, to which La Boulaye returned a short answer in the affirmative. "Do I accompany you?" inquired the official, to which La Boulaye shook his head.
And before the stern and threatening contempt of La Boulaye's glance the young nobleman fell back. But his place was taken by the Vicomte de Bellecour, who advanced to confront Caron. "Monsieur la Boulaye," he announced, "I am ready and willing to meet you." And considering the grim alternative with which the Republicans had threatened him, the old Marquis had not the courage to interfere again.
Suzanne's mind entertained no doubt of what she should do, and she had her way in the matter, sending back Brutus with the message that she would wait until La Boulaye communicated with her again. That night Caron slept tranquilly. He had matured a plan of escape which he intended to carry out upon the morrow, and with confident hope to cradle him he had fallen asleep.
He reddened slightly when it came to speaking of his love for Mlle. de Bellecour, but he realised that if he would have guidance he must withhold nothing from his friend. Duhamel's face grew dark as the young man spoke, and his eyes became sad and very thoughtful. "Alas!" he sighed, when La Boulaye had ended. "What shall I say to you, my friend?
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