"When?" he asked.

"This evening."

"Just as you wish. I would have to go and see my friend Heron first, and
arrange with him for your visit."

"Then go. I will follow in half an hour."

"C'est entendu. Will you be at the main entrance of the Conciergerie
at half-past nine? You know it, perhaps--no? It is in the Rue de la
Barillerie, immediately on the right at the foot of the great staircase
of the house of Justice."

"Of the house of Justice!" she exclaimed involuntarily, a world of
bitter contempt in her cry. Then she added in her former matter-of-fact
tones:

"Very good, citizen. At half-past nine I will be at the entrance you
name."

"And I will be at the door prepared to escort you."

He took up his hat and coat and bowed ceremoniously to her. Then he
turned to go. At the door a cry from her--involuntarily enough, God
knows!--made him pause.

"My interview with the prisoner," she said, vainly trying, poor soul! to
repress that quiver of anxiety in her voice, "it will be private?"

"Oh, yes! Of course," he replied with a reassuring smile. "Au revoir,
Lady Blakeney! Half-past nine, remember--"

She could no longer trust herself to look on him as he finally took his
departure. She was afraid--yes, absolutely afraid that her fortitude
would give way--meanly, despicably, uselessly give way; that she would
suddenly fling herself at the feet of that sneering, inhuman wretch,
that she would pray, implore--Heaven above! what might she not do in
the face of this awful reality, if the last lingering shred of vanishing
reason, of pride, and of courage did not hold her in check?

Therefore she forced herself not to look on that departing, sable-clad
figure, on that evil face, and those hands that held Percy's fate
in their cruel grip; but her ears caught the welcome sound of his
departure--the opening and shutting of the door, his light footstep
echoing down the stone stairs.

When at last she felt that she was really alone she uttered a loud cry
like a wounded doe, and falling on her knees she buried her face in
her hands in a passionate fit of weeping. Violent sobs shook her entire
frame; it seemed as if an overwhelming anguish was tearing at her
heart--the physical pain of it was almost unendurable. And yet even
through this paroxysm of tears her mind clung to one root idea: when she
saw Percy she must be brave and calm, be able to help him if he wanted
her, to do his bidding if there was anything that s