"There is something in your face, my darling Charles, something more
than the mere happiness of seeing me."

"You are right," said Morgan, throwing the boat-chain around a willow
and letting the oars float idly beside the boat. Then, taking Amelie in
his arms, he said, "You were right, my Amelie. Oh! blind weak beings! It
is at the very moment that happiness knocks at our door that we despair
and doubt."

"Oh, speak, speak!" said Amelie, "tell me what has happened."

"Do you remember, my Amelie, how you answered me the last time we met,
when I asked you to fly and spoke to you of your probable repugnance to
the step?"

"Yes, I remember, Charles. I said that I was yours, and that, though I
felt that repugnance, I would conquer it for your sake."

"And I replied that I had engagements which would prevent my leaving the
country; that I was bound to others, and they to me; that our duty
was to one man to whom we owed absolute obedience--the future King of
France, Louis XVIII."

"Yes, you told me that."

"Well, we are now released from our pledges, Amelie, not only by the
King, but by our general, Georges Cadoudal."

"Oh! my friend, then you will be as other men, only above all others."

"I shall become a simple exile, Amelie. There is no hope of our being
included in the Breton or Vendean amnesty."

"Why not?"

"We are not soldiers, my darling child. We are not even rebels. We are
Companions of Jehu."

Amelie sighed.

"We are bandits, brigands, highwaymen," said Morgan, dwelling on the
words with evident intention.

"Hush!" said Amelie, laying her hand on her lover's lips. "Hush! don't
let us speak of that. Tell me how it is that your king has released you,
and your general also."

"The First Consul wished to see Cadoudal. In the first place, he sent
your brother to him with certain proposals. Cadoudal refused to come
to terms; but, like ourselves, he received orders from Louis XVIII. to
cease hostilities. Coincident with that order came another message
from the First Consul to Cadoudal. It was a safeguard for the Vendean
general, and an invitation to come to Paris; an overture from one power
to another power. Cadoudal accepted, and is now on his way to Paris. If
it is not peace, it is at least a truce."

"Oh, what joy, my Charles!"

"Don't rejoice too much, my love."

"Why not?"

"Do you know why they have issued this order to suspend hostilities?"

"No."

"Because M. Fouche is a long-headed