the awful tension of her nerves relaxed. She went
up to the old man took his wrinkled hand in hers and falling on her
knees beside him she eased her overburdened heart in a flood of tears.

Chapter XX: Triumph

The day that Citizen Chauvelin's letter was received by the members of
the Committee of Public Safety was indeed one of great rejoicing.

The Moniteur tells us that in the Seance of September 22nd, 1793, or
Vendemiaire 1st of the Year I. it was decreed that sixty prisoners,
not absolutely proved guilty of treason against the Republic--only
suspected--were to be set free.

Sixty!... at the mere news of the possible capture of the Scarlet
Pimpernel.

The Committee was inclined to be magnanimous. Ferocity yielded for the
moment to the elusive joy of anticipatory triumph.

A glorious prize was about to fall into the hands of those who had the
welfare of the people at heart.

Robespierre and his decemvirs rejoiced, and sixty persons had cause
to rejoice with them. So be it! There were plans evolved already as to
national fetes and wholesale pardons when that impudent and meddlesome
Englishman at last got his deserts.

Wholesale pardons which could easily be rescinded afterwards. Even
with those sixty it was a mere respite. Those of le Salut Public only
loosened their hold for a while, were nobly magnanimous for a day, quite
prepared to be doubly ferocious the next.

In the meanwhile let us heartily rejoice!

The Scarlet Pimpernel is in France or will be very soon, and on an
appointed day he will present himself conveniently to the soldiers of
the Republic for capture and for subsequent guillotine. England is at
war with us, there is nothing therefore further to fear from her. We
might hang every Englishman we can lay hands on, and England could do no
more than she is doing at the present moment: bombard our ports, bluster
and threaten, join hands with Flanders, and Austria and Sardinia, and
the devil if she choose.

Allons! vogue la galere! The Scarlet Pimpernel is perhaps on our shores
at this very moment! Our most stinging, most irritating foe is about to
be delivered into our hands.

Citizen Chauvelin's letter is very categorical:

"I guarantee to you, Citizen Robespierre, and to the Members of the
Revolutionary Government who have entrusted me with the delicate
mission..."

Robespierre's sensuous lips curl into a sarcastic smile. Citizen
Chauvelin's pen was every florid in its style: "e