directly to him, and, as if the love she felt for him were
sanctified by the nearness of death, she gave no heed to the presence of
his friends, but pressed her lips to his, murmuring: "Awake, my Charles,
it is I, Amelie. I have come to keep my promise."

Morgan gave a cry of joy and clasped her in his arms.

"Monsieur Courtois," said Montbar, "you are a worthy man. Leave those
poor young people alone. It would be sacrilege to trouble their last
moments together on earth by our presence."

Pere Courtois, without a word, opened the door of the adjoining cell.
Valensolle, Jayat and Ribier entered it, and the door was closed upon
them. Then, making a sign to Charlotte, Courtois himself went away. The
lovers were alone.

There are scenes that should not be described, words that must not be
repeated. God, who sees and hears them from his immortal throne, alone
knows what sombre joys, what bitter pleasures they contain.

At the end of an hour the two young people heard the key turn once
more in the lock. They were sad but calm. The conviction that their
separation would not be for long gave them a sweet serenity. The worthy
jailer seemed more grieved and distressed at his second appearance than
at his first; but Morgan and Amelie thanked him with a smile.

He went to the cell where the others were locked up and opened it,
murmuring to himself: "Faith! It would have been hard if they couldn't
have been alone together on their last night."

Valensolle, Jayat and Ribier returned. Amelie, with her left arm wound
around Morgan, held out her right hand to them. All three, one after the
other, kissed that cold, damp hand. Then Morgan led her to the door.

"Au revoir!" he said.

"Soon!" she answered.

And then this parting at the gates of death was sealed by a long kiss,
followed by a groan so terrible that it seemed to rend their hearts in
twain.

The door closed again, the bolts and bars shot into their places.

"Well?" cried Valensolle, Jayat and Ribier with one accord.

"Here!" replied Morgan, emptying the travelling bag upon the table.

The three young men gave a cry of joy as they saw the shining pistols
and gleaming blades. It was all that they desired next to liberty--the
joy, the dolorous precious joy of knowing themselves masters of their
own lives, and, if need be, that of others.

During this time the jailer led Amelie to the street. When they reached
it he hesitated a moment, then he touched Amelie's arm