ger-tips, she was spending her young life in earnest work, striving
to attain perfection in her art, absorbed in study during the day, and
in the expression of what she had learnt in the evenings.

The terrors of the guillotine affected her a little, but somewhat
vaguely still. She had not realised that any dangers could assail her
whilst she worked for the artistic delectation of the public.

It was not that she did not understand what went on around her, but that
her artistic temperament and her environment had kept her aloof from
it all. The horrors of the Place de la Revolution made her shudder, but
only in the same way as the tragedies of M. Racine or of Sophocles which
she had studied caused her to shudder, and she had exactly the same
sympathy for poor Queen Marie Antoinette as she had for Mary Stuart, and
shed as many tears for King Louis as she did for Polyeucte.

Once de Batz mentioned the Dauphin, but mademoiselle put up her hand
quickly and said in a trembling voice, whilst the tears gathered in her
eyes:

"Do not speak of the child to me, de Batz. What can I, a lonely,
hard-working woman, do to help him? I try not to think of him, for if
I did, knowing my own helplessness, I feel that I could hate my
countrymen, and speak my bitter hatred of them across the footlights;
which would be more than foolish," she added naively, "for it would not
help the child, and I should be sent to the guillotine. But oh sometimes
I feel that I would gladly die if only that poor little child-martyr
were restored to those who love him and given back once more to joy and
happiness. But they would not take my life for his, I am afraid,"
she concluded, smiling through her tears. "My life is of no value in
comparison with his."

Soon after this she dismissed her two visitors. De Batz, well content
with the result of this evening's entertainment, wore an urbane, bland
smile on his rubicund face. Armand, somewhat serious and not a little in
love, made the hand-kiss with which he took his leave last as long as he
could.

"You will come and see me again, citizen St. Just?" she asked after that
preliminary leave-taking.

"At your service, mademoiselle," he replied with alacrity.

"How long do you stay in Paris?"

"I may be called away at any time."

"Well, then, come to-morrow. I shall be free towards four o'clock.
Square du Roule. You cannot miss the house. Any one there will tell you
where lives citizeness Lange."

"At y