taking out his handkerchief, passed it over
the soiled cover of the bunk.

"If I could wipe the stain of your blood off
my conscience as easily as I can wipe the
stain of your boot off this book," he said
quietly, "you should not live another hour.
Don't cry, Rose," he continued, turning again
to his sister; "I will take care of your book
for you until you can keep it yourself."

"You will do this! you will do that!"
cried Danville, growing more and more
exasperated, and letting his anger get the better
even of his cunning now. "Talk less confidently
of the future—you don't know what it has in
store for you. Govern your tongue when you
are in my presence; a day may come when
you will want my help—my help, do you
hear that?"

Trudaine turned his face from his sister, as
if he feared to let her see it when those
words were spoken.

"The man who followed me to day was a
spy—Danville's spy!" That thought flashed
across his mind, but he gave it no utterance.
There was an instant's pause of silence; and
through it there came heavily on the still
night air the rumbling of distant wheels.
The sound advanced nearer and nearer—
advanced, and ceased under the window.

Danville hurried to it, and looked out
eagerly.

"I have not hastened my return without
reason. I wouldn't have missed this arrest
for anything!" thought he, peering into the
night.

The stars were out; but there was no
moon. He could not recognise either the
coach or the persons who got out of it; and
he turned again into the interior of the room.
His wife had sunk into a chair—her brother
was locking up in a cabinet the book which
he had promised to take care of for her. The
dead silence made the noise of slowly ascending
footsteps on the stairs painfully audible.
At last the door opened softly.

"Citizen Danville, health and fraternity!"
said Lomaque, appearing in the doorway,
followed by his agents. "Citizen Louis
Trudaine?" he continued, beginning with the
usual form.

Rose started out of her chair; but her
brother's hand was on her lips before she
could speak.

"My name is Louis Trudaine," he
answered.

"Charles!" cried his sister, breaking from
him and appealing to her husband, "who are
these men? What are they here for?"

He gave her no answer.

"Louis Trudaine," said Lomaque, slowly
drawing the order from his pocket, "in the
name of the Republic, I arrest you."

"Rose, come back," cried Trudaine.

It was too late; she had broken from him,
and in the recklessness of terror had seized
her husband by the arm.

"Save him!" she cried. " Save him, by
all you hold dearest in the world! You are
that man's superior, Charles—order him
from the room!"

Danville roughly shook her hand off his
arm.

"Lomaque is doing his duty. Yes," he
added, with a glance of malicious triumph at
Trudaine—"Yes, doing his duty. Look at
me as you please—your looks won't move
me. I denounced you! I admit it—I glory
in it! I have rid myself of an enemy and
the State of a bad citizen. Remember your
secret visits to the house in the Rue de
Cléry!"

His wife uttered a cry of horror. She
seized his arm again with both hands—frail,
trembling hands—that seemed suddenly
nerved with all the strength of a man's.

"Come here—come here! I must and
will speak to you!"

She dragged him by main force a few paces
back towards an unoccupied corner of the
room. With deathly cheeks and wild eyes
she raised herself on tiptoe, and put her lips
to her husband's ear. At that instant,
Trudaine called to her:

"Rose, if you speak I am lost!"

She stopped at the sound of his voice,
dropped her hold on her husband's arm, and
faced her brother, shuddering.

"Rose," he continued, "you have promised,
and your promise is sacred. If you prize
your honour, if you love me, come here—
come here, and be silent."

He held out his hand. She ran to him;
and, laying her head on his bosom, burst into
a passion of tears.

Danville turned uneasily towards the
police-agents. "Remove your prisoner," he
said. "You have done your duty here."

"Only half of it," retorted Lomaque, eyeing
him attentively. "Rose Danville"—

"My wife!" exclaimed the other. "What
about my wife?"

"Rose Danville," continued Lomaque,
impassibly, "you are included in the arrest of
Louis Trudaine."

Rose raised her head quickly from her
brother's breast. His firmness had deserted
him—he was trembling. She heard him
whispering to himself, "Rose, too! Oh, my
God! I was not prepared for that." She
heard these words, and dashed the tears from
her eyes, and kissed him, saying—

"I am glad of it, Louis. We risked all
together—we shall now suffer together. I
am glad of it!"

Danville looked incredulously at Lomaque,
after the first shock of astonishment was
over.

"Impossible!" he exclaimed. "I never
denounced my wife. There is some mistake:
you have exceeded your orders."

"Silence!" retorted Lomaque, imperiously.
"Silence, citizen, and respect to a decree of
the Republic!"

"You blackguard! show me the arrest