s being a trap. I did not for one moment connect
the letter with the other event, the recollection of which, strange as
it may seem to you, did not obtrude itself at all then. But there was
another reason for the absence of caution on my part. In one of its
corners the letter bore a sign, not exactly that of a secret society,
but agreed upon among certain patriots.

"In short, a little before twelve o'clock that night, I went to the
place appointed. I had no difficulty in finding the house, and reached
the fourth story without meeting a soul. There was the door, with the
cross chalked on it. I knocked once, twice, without receiving an answer.
Still, the thought of evil never entered my head. I began to think that
I had been the victim of a hoax of some youngsters of the Ecole des
Beaux-Arts, most of whom were aware of my political opinions. I was just
turning round to go down again, when a door by the side of that
indicated was slowly opened, and a young girl with a lighted candle
appeared on the threshold. Though both the candle and my lantern did not
shed much light, I perceived that, at the sight of me, she turned very
pale, but, until she spoke, I failed to recognize her. Then I saw it was
Clementine, my model. She scarcely gave me time to speak. 'It is you, M.
David,' she said, in a voice trembling with fear and emotion. 'You,' she
repeated. 'For Heaven's sake, go!--go as quickly as you can! If you stay
another moment, you will be a corpse; for God's sake, go! And let me beg
of you not to breathe a word of this to any one; if you do, my mother
and I will pay for this with our lives. For God's sake, go. I did not
know that you were the person expected. Go--go!'

"I do not think I answered a single word. I felt instinctively that this
was no hoax, as I had imagined, but terrible reality. I went downstairs
as fast as I could, but it was not until I got into the street that a
connection between the two events presented itself to me. Then I decided
to wait and watch. I hid myself in the doorway of a house a few steps
away. Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed when half a dozen individuals
arrived, one by one, and disappeared into the house that sheltered
Clementine and her mother. One of them, I feel sure, was the man whom I
suspected of having attempted my life before. A few years more went by,
during which I often thought of my former model; and then, one day, I
felt I would like to see her again. In plain daylight this t