ved
imminent had occasioned no trembling, turned pale as La Boulaye ceased.
His blue eyes were lifted almost timidly to the Deputy's face, and his
lip quivered.

"You are not going to have me shot, then?" he faltered.

"Shot?" echoed La Boulaye, and then he remembered the precise words of
the request which Des Cadoux had preferred the night before, but which,
at the time, he had treated lightly. "Ma foi, you do not flatter me!" he
cried. "Am I a murderer, then? Come, come, Citizen, here is the letter
that you are to carry. It is addressed to Mademoiselle de Bellecour, at
Treves, and encloses Ombreval's farewell epistle to that lady."

"But, gladly, Monsieur," exclaimed Des Cadoux.

And then, as if to cover his sudden access of emotion, of which he was
most heartily ashamed, he fumbled for his snuff-box, and, having found
it, he took an enormous pinch.

They parted on the very best of terms did these two--the aristocrat and
the Revolutionary--actuated by a mutual esteem tempered in each case
with gratitude.

When at last Des Cadoux had taken a sympathetic leave of Ombreval and
departed, Caron ordered the Vicomte to be brought before him again, and
at the same time bade his men make ready for the road.

"Citizen," said La Boulaye, "we start for Paris at once. If you will
pass me your word of honour to attempt no escape you shall travel with
us in complete freedom and with all dignity."

Ombreval looked at him with insolent surprise, his weak supercilious
mouth growing more supercilious even than its wont. He had recovered a
good deal of his spirit by now.

"Pass you my word of honour?" he echoed. "Mon Dieu! my good fellow a
word of honour is a bond between gentlemen. I think too well of mine to
pass it to the first greasy rascal of the Republic that asks it of me."

La Boulaye eyed him a second with a glance before which the aristocrat
grew pale, and already regretted him of his words. The veins in the
Deputy's temples were swollen.

"I warned you," said he, in a dull voice. Then to the soldiers standing
on either side of Ombreval--"Take him out," he said, "mount him on
horseback. Let him ride with his hands pinioned behind his back, and his
feet lashed together under the horse's belly. Attend to it!"

"Monsieur," cried the young man, in an appealing voice, "I will give you
my word of honour not to escape. I will--"

"Take him out," La Boulaye repeated, with a dull bark of contempt. "You
had your chance, C