ays, faintly, leaning for support on Mr.
Morris, who stood by, unspeakably astonished at the strange scene taking
place.

"Impossible? Then I am sorry," he says. "Frankly, there is but one way,
Madame, for you to obtain the passport you wish, and that is by becoming
an American subject, the wife of Monsieur Calvert. I can interest myself
in the matter only on those conditions. I have but to mention to Danton
my good reasons for serving so close a relation of Monsieur Calvert, and
he will be inclined to interest himself in obtaining the freedom of
Monsieur d'Azay--for such it really is. Should he still be disinclined
to serve a friend who has stood him well"--and his face darkened
ominously and a sinister smile came to his lips--"I have but to recall
to his mind a certain scene which took place in the Cafe de l'Ecole some
years ago in which Monsieur Calvert was an actor, and I can answer for
it that Monsieur d'Azay leaves Paris to-night. Shall I do these things
or not? If not, I think 'tis sure that, let Madame and Monsieur Morris
apply to whom they may, Danton and I will see to it that no passport for
Monsieur d'Azay is granted. Is it still impossible?" he asks, with an
insolent smile.

The girl turned piteously from Bertrand to Mr. Morris and back again, as
if seeking some escape from the trap in which she was caught. Her pale
lips trembled.

"Is it impossible?" again asks Bertrand, noting her pallor and cruel
indecision.

"No, no," she cries, suddenly, shuddering and putting out her hand.

"Then all will be in readiness at six, Monsieur," says Bertrand,
addressing himself to Mr. Morris.

"A word aside with you," he says to Bertrand, and, leading Adrienne to a
seat, he went back to Bertrand, who waited for him beside the door.

"What is the meaning of this extraordinary scene?" he asked, sternly.

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Just what I have said. You know
yourself, Monsieur, whether or not I am devoted to Monsieur Calvert. For
Madame de St. Andre I care less than nothing," he said, snapping his
fingers carelessly. "But Monsieur Calvert loves her--it seems a pretty
enough way of making them happy, though 'tis a strange metier for
me--arranging love-matches among the nobility! However, stranger things
than that are happening in France. Besides, it is necessary," he said,
his light manner suddenly changing to one more serious. "I swear it is
the only way of getting d'Azay out of Paris. I doubt if even Danto