to our good friend, M. La Boulaye, that you should
address your thanks, Monsieur."

"Ah? Vraiment?" exclaimed the Vicomte, turning a supercilious eye upon
the Deputy, for with his freedom he seemed to have recovered his old
habits.

"I have not sold you to the Citoyenne," said La Boulaye, the words being
drawn from him by the other's manner. "I am making her a present of
you--a sort of wedding gift." And his lips smiled, for all that his eyes
remained hard.

Ombreval made him no answer, but stood looking from the Deputy to
Suzanne in some hesitation. The expressions which his very lofty dignity
prompted, his sense of fitness--feeble though it was--forbade him. And
so there followed a pause, which, however, was but brief, for La Boulaye
had yet something to say.

It had just come to him with a dismaying force that in the haste of his
escape from Paris with the Vicomte he had forgotten to return to his
lodging for a passport that he was fortunately possessed of. It was
a laissez-passer, signed and left in blank, with which he had been
equipped--against the possibility of the need for it arising--when
he had started upon the Convention's errand to the Army of Dumouriez.
Whilst on his way to Robespierre's house to secure the order of release,
he had bethought him of filling in that passport for three persons, and
thus, since to remain must entail his ruin and destruction, make his
escape from France with Mademoiselle and the Vicomte. It was his only
chance. Then in the hurry of the succeeding incidents, the excitement
that had attended them, and the imperative need for haste in getting the
Vicomte to Choisy, he had put the intended return to his lodging from
his mind--overlooking until now the fact that not only must he go back
for the valise which he had bidden Brutus pack, but also for that far
more precious passport.

It now became necessary to explain the circumstances to his companions,
and in explaining them the whole affair, from Robespierre's refusal to
grant him the life of the Vicomte down to the means to which he had had
recourse, could not be kept from transpiring. As she listened, Suzanne's
expression changed into one of ineffable wonder.

"And you have done this for me?" she cried, when at last he paused, "you
have ruined your career and endangered your life?"

La Boulaye shrugged his shoulders.

"I spoke over-confidently when I said that I could obtain you the
Vicomte's pardon. There proved to be a