hing yet."

"I do not conceal the risk, Monsieur."

"Dear Dominique," Cyrene put in firmly, "I am ready to do all you say."

"Yes, our more than parent," Lecour added in tears, "she is ready to
trust her life in your hands," and going over to Dominique he put his
arm upon his shoulder and kissed him.

The old man's lip trembled and he withdrew, and at the same time Cyrene
also left the chamber to prepare for the ordeal.

Then did Germain fully realise the sharpness of dread. She whom he loved
was in the direst peril. He saw the gulf which had swallowed so many
others yawning for her life, and he trembled as he had never trembled
before. It must be said for him that he had always valued his own life
little and had been willing to risk it for another on more occasions
than one. It was when not he but his heart's beloved was in such danger
that his eyes were opened to the greatness of the fact of death.
Moreover he felt that he was helpless to lessen the peril. For him to
accompany her to the Hotel de Ville was to make her fate absolutely
certain. That charge must be left to Dominique, and--God!

God! He had not dared to think of God for years; yet now the Divine Face
appeared through the dissolving vision of things mortal, and he suddenly
saw it looming dim and awful as the one changeless Reality.

Her step sounded returning and he composed himself. Both tried to be
brave. Both were thinking of the other's happiness.

"Have no anxieties, my dear one," she exclaimed, coming close to him,
her eyes moistened and voice trembling slightly, "I have our good
Dominique to take care of me, and we shall soon return."

"I do not doubt it," he replied as cheerily as he was able, bending and
gently kissing her forehead. "Prudence and Courage!--all shall go
rightly."

But at the touch of his lips she started, threw her arms around his neck
and passionately drew him to her.

"And what, my beloved, if it should _not_ go rightly?--what for you to
be left behind?"

"Darling, darling, do not say it," he cried, fervently returning her
embraces. "All must and will go rightly. We cannot live without each
other. Trust in Providence."

Ah, what those words meant for him!

"I do," she murmured, "but would that Dominique's priest were here. I
long for the eternal union of our souls."

He pressed her to his breast in great emotion, then loosed his arms and
stood looking sorrowfully at her again, as for the last time.

"_Au revoi