he
Republic right, arguing that if a God there was, His leanings must
be aristocratic, since He never seemed to concern Himself with the
misfortunes of the lowly-born. But tonight, mesdames, I know that the
Republic is at fault. There is a God--a God of justice and retribution,
who has delivered you, of all people in the world, into my hands. Look
on me well, Ci-devant Marquise de Bellecour, and you, Mademoiselle de
Bellecour. Look in my face and see if you know me again. Not you. You
never heeded me as you rode by in those proud days. But heard you ever
tell of one Charlot Tardivet, a base vassal whose wife your husband,
Madame, and your father, Mademoiselle, took from him on his bridal morn?
Heard you ever tell of that poor girl--one Marie Tardivet--who died of
grief as a consequence of that brutality? But no; such matters were too
trivial for your notice if you saw them, or for your memory if you ever
heard tell of them. What was the life of a peasant more than that of
any other animal of the land, that the concern of it should perturb the
sereneness of your aristocratic being? Mesdames, that Charlot Tardivet
am I; that Marie Tardivet was my wife. I knew not whom you were when I
bade you sup at my table but now that I know it--what do you look for at
my hands?"

It was the Marquise who answered him. She was deathly pale, and her
words came breathlessly: for all that their import was very bold.

"We look for the recollection that we are women and unless you are as
cowardly as--"

"Citoyenne," he broke in harshly, answering her as he had answered La
Boulaye, "was my wife less a woman think you? Pah! There is yet another
here who was wronged," he announced, and he waved his hand in the
direction of La Boulaye, who stood, stiff and pale, by the hearth.

The women turned, and at sight of the Deputy a cry escaped Suzanne. It
was a cry of hope, for here was one who would surely lend them aid. It
was a fact, she thought, upon which the Captain had not counted. But La
Boulaye stood straight and cold, and not by so much as an inclination of
the head did he acknowledge that grim introduction. Charlot, mistaking
Mademoiselle's exclamation, laughed softly.

"Well may you cry out, Citoyenne," said he, "for him I see you
recognise. He is the man who sought to rescue my wife from the clutches
of your lordly and most noble father. For his pains he was flogged until
they believed him dead. Is it not very fitting that he should be