small leather bag which she set upon the table, beseeching him to
satisfy himself as to the value of the contents.

Now at last he stirred. His face grew crimson to the roots of his hair,
and his eyes seemed of a sudden to take fire. He seized that little bag
and held it in his hand.

"And so, Mademoiselle de Bellecour," said he, in a concentrated voice,
"you have learnt so little of me that you bring me a bribe of gems. Am
I a helot, that you should offer to buy my very soul? Do you think my
honour is so cheap a thing that you can have it for the matter of some
bits of glass? Or do you imagine that we of the new regime, because we
do not mouth the word at every turn, have no such thing as honour? For
shame!" He paused, his wrath boiling over as he sought words in which
to give it utterance. And then, words failing him to express the half of
what was in him, he lifted the bag high above his head, and hurled it
at her feet with a force that sent half the glittering contents rolling
about the parquet floor. "Citoyenne, your journey has been in vain. I
will not treat with you another instant."

She recoiled before his wrath, a white and frightened thing that but an
instant back had been so calm and self-possessed. She gave no thought to
the flashing jewels scattered about the floor. Through all the fear that
now possessed her rose the consideration of this man--this man whom she
had almost confessed half-shamedly to herself that she loved, that night
on the Liege road; this man who at every turn amazed her and filled her
with a new sense of his strength and dignity.

Then, bethinking her of Ombreval and of her mission, she took her
courage in both hands, and, advancing a step, she cast herself upon her
knees before Caron.

"Monsieur, forgive me," she besought him. "I meant you no insult. How
could I, when my every wish is to propitiate you? Bethink you, Monsieur,
I have journeyed all the way from Prussia to save that man, because my
hon--because he is my betrothed. Remember, Monsieur, you held out to me
the promise in your letter that if I came you would treat with me, and
that I might buy his life from you."

"Why, so I did," he answered, touched by her humiliation and her tears.
"But you went too fast in your conclusions."

"Forgive me that. See! I am on my knees to you. Am I not humbled enough?
Have I not suffered enough for the wrong I may have done you?"

"It would take the sufferings of a generation to atone