own
nation, and of highly refined and delicate appearance, had kindled a
singular interest in the middle-aged gentleman's breast, and her large
dark eyes, as they had opened and shrunk from him, exhibited a pathetic
beauty to which hardly any man could have been insensible.

'The next day, having written some letters, he went out and made known at
the office of the town "Guide" and of the newspaper, that a teacher of
French and calligraphy had arrived, leaving a card at the bookseller's to
the same effect. He then walked on aimlessly, but at length inquired the
way to General Newbold's. At the door, without giving his name, he asked
to see Mademoiselle V--, and was shown into a little back parlour, where
she came to him with a gaze of surprise.

'"My God! Why do you intrude here, Monsieur?" she gasped in French as
soon as she saw his face.

'"You were taken ill yesterday. I helped you. You might have been run
over if I had not picked you up. It was an act of simple humanity
certainly; but I thought I might come to ask if you had recovered?"

'She had turned aside, and had scarcely heard a word of his speech. "I
hate you, infamous man!" she said. "I cannot bear your helping me. Go
away!"

'"But you are a stranger to me."

'"I know you too well!"

'"You have the advantage then, Mademoiselle. I am a newcomer here. I
never have seen you before to my knowledge; and I certainly do not, could
not, hate you."

'"Are you not Monsieur B--?"

'He flinched. "I am--in Paris," he said. "But here I am Monsieur G--."

'"That is trivial. You are the man I say you are."

'"How did you know my real name, Mademoiselle?"

'"I saw you in years gone by, when you did not see me. You were formerly
Member of the Committee of Public Safety, under the Convention."

"I was."

'"You guillotined my father, my brother, my uncle--all my family, nearly,
and broke my mother's heart. They had done nothing but keep silence.
Their sentiments were only guessed. Their headless corpses were thrown
indiscriminately into the ditch of the Mousseaux Cemetery, and destroyed
with lime."

'He nodded.

'"You left me without a friend, and here I am now, alone in a foreign
land."

'"I am sorry for you," said be. "Sorry for the consequence, not for the
intent. What I did was a matter of conscience, and, from a point of view
indiscernible by you, I did right. I profited not a farthing. But I
shall not argue this. You have the s