em presently to his own purposes.
She would infer that he had posed as unselfish--as self-sacrificing,
almost--only that he might win her esteem, and that by telling her now
that Robespierre was inflexible in his resolve to send Ombreval to the
guillotine, he sought to retain that esteem whilst doing nothing for
it. That he had ever intended to save Ombreval she would not credit.
She would think it all a cunning scheme to win his own ends. And now he
bethought him of the grief that would beset her upon learning that her
journey had indeed been fruitless. He smote the table a blow with his
clenched hand, and cursed the whole Republic, from Robespierre down to
the meanest sans-culotte that brayed the Ca ira in the streets of Paris.

He had pledged his word, and for all that he belonged to the class whose
right to honour was denied by the aristocrats, his word he had never
yet broken. That circumstance--as personified by Maximilien
Robespierre--should break it for him now was matter enough to enrage
him, for than this never had there been an occasion on which such a
breach could have been less endurable.

He rose to his feet, and set himself to pace the chamber, driven to
action of body by the agonised activity of his mind. From the street
rose the cry of the pastry-cook going his daily rounds, as it had risen
yesterday, he remembered, when Suzanne had been with him. And now of
a sudden he stood still. His lips were compressed, his brows drawn
together in a forbidding scowl, and his eyes narrowed until they seemed
almost closed. Then with his clenched right hand he smote the open
palm of the other. His resolve was taken. By fair means or foul, with
Robespierre's sanction or without it, he would keep his word. After not
only the hope but the assurance he had given Suzanne that her betrothed
should go free, he could do no less than accomplish the Vicomte's
enlargement by whatever means should present themselves.

And now to seek a way. He recalled the free pardon to which Robespierre
had gone the length of appending his signature. He remembered that it
had not been destroyed; Robespierre had crumpled it in his hand and
tossed it aside. And by now Robespierre would have departed, and
it should not be difficult for him--the protege and intimate of
Robespierre--to gain access to the Incorruptible's room.

If only he could find that document and fill in the name of Ombreval the
thing would be as good as done. True, he would r