ich his presence was occasioning
her.

He could imagine the lengths to which the thirst of vengeance would urge
a scorned woman, and of all women he felt that Cecile scorned was
the most to be feared. She would not sit with folded hands. Once she
overcame the first tempestuous outburst of her passion she would be
up and doing, straining every sense to outwit and thwart him in his
project, whose scope she must have more than guessed.

Reasoning thus, he clearly saw not only that every moment was of value,
but that flight was the only thing remaining him if he would save
himself as well as Ombreval. And so he hired him a cabriolet, and drove
in all haste to the house of Billaud Varennes, the Deputy, from whom he
sought to obtain one of the two signatures still needed by his order
of release. He was disappointed at learning that Varennes was not at
home--though, had he been able to peep an hour or so into the future, he
would have offered up thanks to Heaven for that same Deputy's absence.
His insistent and impatient questions elicited the information that
probably Verennes would be found at Fevrier's. And so to Fevrier's
famous restaurant in the old Palais Royal went La Boulaye, and there
he had the good fortune to find not only Billaud Varennes, but also the
Deputy Carnot. Nor did fortune end her favours there. She was smiling
now upon Caron, as was proved by the fact that neither to Varennes
nor Carnot did the name of Ombreval mean anything. Robespierre's
subscription of the document was accepted by each as affording him a
sufficient warrant to append his own signature, and although Carnot
asked a question or two, it was done in an idle humour, and he paid
little attention to such replies as Caron made him.

Within five minutes of entering the restaurant, La Boulaye was in the
street again, driving, by way of the Pont Neuf, to the Luxembourg.

At the prison he encountered not the slightest difficulty. He was
known personally to the officer, of whom he demanded the person of the
ci-devant Vicomte, and his order of release was too correct to give rise
to any hesitation on the part of the man to whom it was submitted.
He was left waiting a few moments in a chamber that did duty as a
guard-room, and presently the Vicomte, looking pale, and trembling with
excitement at his sudden release, stood before him.

"You?" he muttered, upon beholding La Boulaye. But the Republican
received him very coldly, and hurried him out of