do. Yet it is
impossible for you to love me now that the Emperor is no longer here.
Your uncle would never consent. You, yourself, love that English
gentleman. Why give thought to Marteau? Summon assistance, deliver me
up and remember me as one who loved you with all the fervor of his
heart, or forget me, if you can."

"I would not have you die," said the woman, shuddering. "God forbid."

"It is best so. Life holds nothing for me now."

"But if the violets bloom again?" asked the other.

"Ah!" exclaimed the man, throwing up his hands and drawing a long
breath. "Then!"

"How came you here, monsieur?"

"By that window there. There is a ladder without. It reaches most of
the way. I am a good climber. The ivy----"

"Go as you came. None shall be the wiser."

"To you always the disposition of my life, mademoiselle," said Marteau
simply. "I obey your command. Farewell. It is but a postponement,
anyway," he added as he turned away. "I can never escape from
Grenoble. They will seize me sooner or later and----"

"Stay!" she cried.

Moved by an unaccountable impulse the girl took a step nearer to him.
She loosened her clutch upon her garment and held out her hands to him.

"If it is to be farewell," she said tenderly, "know that I do not love
that English Captain, no, and that. I----"

He seized her hand and covered it with kisses.

"I can die with better grace now," he said at last.

Not daring to trust himself further he turned to the window again. As
he put his hand on the lock of the casement he heard shouts and cries
outside, he saw torches. Escape that way was barred. The whole castle
seemed suddenly to awake. He realized it all in a moment. He had been
traced there. In another minute he would be discovered in the
Countess's room at that hour of the morning. He turned swiftly to the
dismayed girl.

"They are there," he said. "Escape is cut off."

Steps and voices resounded in the corridor.

"Quick," she said, "the closet yonder--you can hide."

She understood the peril as well as he.

"And bring disgrace upon you when they caught me? Never!"

"Marteau, for God's sake, I love you," said the woman agonizingly. "I
cannot----"

She stretched out her hands to him again. Very lovely she looked, the
peignoir falling from her white shoulders, the soft candle-light
illuminating and yet concealing in its vague shadows the beauty of face
and figure. Marteau did not dare to dwell