few hours; those that are in existence must perforce be
spared, or the citizens who govern us now would not know where to spend
their evenings."

But though she spoke so airily and with her accustomed gaiety, it was
easily perceived that even on this childish mind the dangers which beset
every one these days had already imprinted their mark of suspicion and
of caution.

"Come into my dressing-room," she said. "I must not tarry here any
longer, for they will be putting out the lights. But I have a room to
myself, and we can talk there quite agreeably."

She led the way across the stage towards the wooden stairs. Armand, who
during this brief colloquy between his friend and the young girl had
kept discreetly in the background, felt undecided what to do. But at
a peremptory sign from de Batz he, too, turned in the wake of the gay
little lady, who ran swiftly up the rickety steps, humming snatches of
popular songs the while, and not turning to see if indeed the two men
were following her.

She had the sheaf of narcissi still in her arms, and the door of her
tiny dressing-room being open, she ran straight in and threw the flowers
down in a confused, sweet-scented mass upon the small table that
stood at one end of the room, littered with pots and bottles, letters,
mirrors, powder-puffs, silk stockings, and cambric handkerchiefs.

Then she turned and faced the two men, a merry look of unalterable
gaiety dancing in her eyes.

"Shut the door, mon ami," she said to de Batz, "and after that sit down
where you can, so long as it is not on my most precious pot of unguent
or a box of costliest powder."

While de Batz did as he was told, she turned to Armand and said with a
pretty tone of interrogation in her melodious voice:

"Monsieur?"

"St. Just, at your service, mademoiselle," said Armand, bowing very low
in the most approved style obtaining at the English Court.

"St. Just?" she repeated, a look of puzzlement in her brown eyes.
"Surely--"

"A kinsman of citizen St. Just, whom no doubt you know, mademoiselle,"
he exclaimed.

"My friend Armand St. Just," interposed de Batz, "is practically a
new-comer in Paris. He lives in England habitually."

"In England?" she exclaimed. "Oh! do tell me all about England. I would
love to go there. Perhaps I may have to go some day. Oh! do sit down, de
Batz," she continued, talking rather volubly, even as a delicate blush
heightened the colour in her cheeks under the look of obvi