those brows that looked so black on the fair skin, under the
powdered hair.

"My husband! ah, I knew it, my Andre ... the common fate of the
loyal!" A sigh lifted the fair young bosom, but she showed no other
sign of weakness.

Indeed those who watched this unexpected scene were struck by the
contrast between the bearing of this young, almost girlish creature,
who, holding the written sheets with firm hands to the light, read
their terrible contents with dry eyes, and that of the man who had
sunk, kneeling, at her feet, all undone, to have had the bringing of
the news.

The silence was profound, save for the crackling of the pages as she
turned them over, and an occasional long-drawn sob from the messenger.

When she came to the end the young widow--for such she was
now--remained some moments absorbed in thought, absently refolding the
letter into its original neatness. Then her eyes fell on Rene's
prostrate figure and she stooped to lay a kind hand for an instant on
his shoulder.

"Bear up, my good Rene," she said. At her voice and touch he dragged
his limbs together and stood humbly before her.

"We must be brave," she went on; "your master's task is done--ours,
yours and mine, is not."

He lifted his bloodshot eyes to her with the gaze of a faithful dog in
distress, scraped an uncouth bow and abruptly turned away, brushing
the tears from his cheek with his sleeve, and hurrying, to relieve his
choking grief in solitude. She stood a while, again absorbed in her
own reflection, and of those who would have rushed to speak gentle
words to her, and uphold her with tender hands, had she wept or
swooned, there was none who dared approach this grief that gave no
sign.

In a short time, however, she seemed to recollect herself and awaken
to the consciousness of the many watching eyes.

"Good uncle," she said, going up to the old man and kissing his cheek,
after sweeping the assembled company with dark, thoughtful gaze. "Here
are news that I should have expected sooner--but that I would not
entertain the thought. It has come upon us at last, the fate of the
others ... Andre has paid his debt to the king, like many hundreds of
true people before--though none better. He has now his reward. I glory
in his noble death," she said with a gleam of exaltation in her eyes,
then added after a pause, between clenched teeth, almost in a whisper:

"And my sister too--she too is with him--but I will tell you of it
later; they a