onality into her sacred presence,
threatening that very life he would gladly give his own to keep
inviolate?

"Listen, sweetheart," he said after awhile, when presently reason
struggled back for first place in his mind. "Will you allow me to
consult with my chief, with the Scarlet Pimpernel, who is in Paris at
the present moment? I am under his orders; I could not leave France just
now. My life, my entire person are at his disposal. I and my comrades
are here under his orders, for a great undertaking which he has not yet
unfolded to us, but which I firmly believe is framed for the rescue of
the Dauphin from the Temple."

She gave an involuntary exclamation of horror.

"No, no!" she said quickly and earnestly; "as far as you are concerned,
Armand, that has now become an impossibility. Some one has betrayed you,
and you are henceforth a marked man. I think that odious de Batz had a
hand in Heron's visit of this afternoon. We succeeded in putting these
spies off the scent, but only for a moment... within a few hours--less
perhaps--Heron will repent him of his carelessness; he'll come back--I
know that he will come back. He may leave me, personally, alone; but
he will be on your track; he'll drag you to the Conciergerie to report
yourself, and there your true name and history are bound to come to
light. If you succeed in evading him, he will still be on your track. If
the Scarlet Pimpernel keeps you in Paris now, your death will be at his
door."

Her voice had become quite hard and trenchant as she said these last
words; womanlike, she was already prepared to hate the man whose
mysterious personality she had hitherto admired, now that the life and
safety of Armand appeared to depend on the will of that elusive hero.

"You must not be afraid for me, Jeanne," he urged. "The Scarlet
Pimpernel cares for all his followers; he would never allow me to run
unnecessary risks."

She was unconvinced, almost jealous now of his enthusiasm for that
unknown man. Already she had taken full possession of Armand; she had
purchased his life, and he had given her his love. She would share
neither treasure with that nameless leader who held Armand's allegiance.

"It is only for a little while, sweetheart," he reiterated again and
again. "I could not, anyhow, leave Paris whilst I feel that you are
here, maybe in danger. The thought would be horrible. I should go mad if
I had to leave you."

Then he talked again of England, of his life