t."

"Never, monsieur--oh, never!"

"I am older, child, than you are. I know. At present you are anxious
to save his life anxious because you love him, and also because you
betrayed him, and you would not have his death upon your conscience."
He paused a moment; then raising his voice, "Mademoiselle," said he, "I
offer you your lover's life."

"Monsieur, monsieur!" cried the poor child, "I knew you were good! I
knew--"

"A moment! Do not misapprehend me. I do not say that I give it--I offer
it."

"But the difference?"

"That if you would have it, mademoiselle, you must buy it. I have said
that for you I would brave all dangers. To save your lover, I brave
the scaffold. If I am betrayed, or if the story transpire, my head
will assuredly fall in the place of Lesperon's. This I will risk,
mademoiselle--I will do it gladly--if you will promise to become my wife
when it is done."

There was a moan from Roxalanne, then silence; then--"Oh, monsieur, you
are pitiless! What bargain is this that you offer me?"

"A fair one, surely," said that son of hell--"a very fair one. The risk
of my life against your hand in marriage."

"If you--if you truly loved me as you say, monsieur," she reasoned, "you
would serve me without asking guerdon."

"In any other thing I would. But is it fair to ask a man who is racked
by love of you to place another in your arms, and that at the risk of
his own life? Ah, mademoiselle, I am but a man, and I am subject to
human weaknesses. If you will consent, this Lesperon shall go free, but
you must see him no more; and I will carry my consideration so far as
to give you six months in which to overcome your sorrow, ere I present
myself to you again to urge my suit."

"And if I refuse, monsieur?"

He sighed.

"To the value which I set upon my life you must add my very human
jealousy. From such a combination what can you hope for?"

"You mean, in short, that he must die?"

"To-morrow," was that infernal cheat's laconic answer.

They were silent a little while, then she fell a-sobbing.

"Be pitiful, monsieur! Have mercy if you, indeed, love me. Oh, he must
not die! I cannot, I dare not, let him die! Save him, monsieur, and I
will pray for you every night of my life; I will pray for you to our
Holy Mother as I am now praying to you for him."

Lived there the man to resist that innocent, devout appeal? Lived there
one who in answer to such gentle words of love and grief could obtrude
his