said--simple though they were--had sent a thrill through Armand's
veins. He felt himself disarmed. His resistance fell before the subtle
strength of an unbendable will; nothing remained in his heart but an
overwhelming sense of shame and of impotence.

He sank into a chair and rested his elbows on the table, burying his
face in his hands. Blakeney went up to him and placed a kindly hand upon
his shoulder.

"The difficult task, Armand," he said gently.

"Percy, cannot you release me? She saved my life. I have not thanked her
yet."

"There will be time for thanks later, Armand. Just now over yonder the
son of kings is being done to death by savage brutes."

"I would not hinder you if I stayed."

"God knows you have hindered us enough already."

"How?"

"You say she saved your life... then you were in danger... Heron and his
spies have been on your track your track leads to mine, and I have sworn
to save the Dauphin from the hands of thieves.... A man in love, Armand,
is a deadly danger among us.... Therefore at daybreak you must leave
Paris with Hastings on your difficult and dangerous task."

"And if I refuse?" retorted Armand.

"My good fellow," said Blakeney earnestly, "in that admirable lexicon
which the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel has compiled for itself there
is no such word as refuse."

"But if I do refuse?" persisted the other.

"You would be offering a tainted name and tarnished honour to the woman
you pretend to love."

"And you insist upon my obedience?"

"By the oath which I hold from you."

"But this is cruel--inhuman!"

"Honour, my good Armand, is often cruel and seldom human. He is a
godlike taskmaster, and we who call ourselves men are all of us his
slaves."

"The tyranny comes from you alone. You could release me an you would."

"And to gratify the selfish desire of immature passion, you would wish
to see me jeopardise the life of those who place infinite trust in me."

"God knows how you have gained their allegiance, Blakeney. To me now you
are selfish and callous."

"There is the difficult task you craved for, Armand," was all the answer
that Blakeney made to the taunt--"to obey a leader whom you no longer
trust."

But this Armand could not brook. He had spoken hotly, impetuously,
smarting under the discipline which thwarted his desire, but his heart
was loyal to the chief whom he had reverenced for so long.

"Forgive me, Percy," he said humbly; "I am distracted. I don't