Septembrists, an additional stimulus to his
zeal was given by Adelaide Morin, who had
herself beheld the fearful spectacle which
followed the murder of the unfortunate
Princesse de Lamballe.

Adelaide Morin was well calculated to
make converts of those who listened to her
impassioned words. Had there been no
suffering to deplore, no wrong to redress, no
right to sustain, royalty was so thoroughly
a part of her nature that, even from such as
held a contrary opinion, her advocacy must
have commanded attention. But when her
auditors felt, or were disposed to feel as
she did, it was no wonder that she created
partisans. Of all the circle that surrounded
her, none echoed her sentiments more warmly
than Richard Devaux.

It is possible that, for the moment, this
young man's devotion to the cause of French
royalty was sincere; but, if Adelaide Morin
had been separated from that cause, there is
no room for doubting which side of the
question he would have taken. He had,
indeed, fallen deeply in love with her.

III.

THE single purpose by which Monsieur
Morin was inspired so completely filled his
mind that he was alive only to that which
reflected his own desires, and he unhesitatingly
took for granted Richard Devaux's
fervent declarations, and reposed unlimited
confidence in them.

The refugee's house was accordingly open
at all hours to his new friend; who, one
morning, went there much earlier than
usual.

"Has your master received his letters
today, Louis?" he asked of the valet.

"No, sir. And he is very anxious on that
account."

"Where is he?"

"In the study, sir, with Mademoiselle."

"Show me there!"

Entering, as Louis announced him,
Devaux found Monsieur Morin and Adelaide
writing.

On hearing his name they both looked
quickly up.

"Have you news ?" eagerly inquired
Monsieur Morin.

"I have. At least, there are rumours.
They are very bad!"

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Adelaide. "What
has happened?"

"It is reported that—the Convention—"
he paused.

"Speak!—speak!" cried father and daughter,
in one breath.

"Have condemned the king to death!"

Adelaide sank back in her chair. The pen
fell from Monsieur Morin's hand.

"Condemned to death!" he said. "From
whom have you this news?"

"It is current generally. It was every
man's conversation at the opening of
'Change. I came here instantly to learn the
truth."

"And they have left me uninformed," said
Monsieur Morin, with bitterness. "When,
do they say, was this fearful decree
pronounced?"

"On the evening before last. A government
courier is believed to have brought the
intelligence. The funds have already fallen
more than three per cent. Yet it may be only
a stock-jobbing report."

"I fear not. But I have still the means of
finding out. Stay here, Devaux, till I return.
I will be absent no longer than I can help."

Monsieur Morin quitted the room. The
street-door closed immediately afterwards,
and Adelaide was left alone with Richard
Devaux. It was the first time that this had
ever occurred.

For several minutes Mademoiselle Morin
remained without speech or motion. At
length she sighed heavily, and raised her
head.

"This is terrible!" she said.

"Sad enough, mademoiselle," answered
Devaux, "if the news be really true."

"They will not dare to execute the
sentence," she continued, with flashing eyes.

"What have they not dared?" he
returned.

"It is true," she said; "nothing restrains
them. O, if there were hands now to strike
in the king's defence! But such hands are
far, far away!"

"Hands there are," said Devaux, "near
enough yet to serve him. They can never be
wanting when you desire their aid."

There was something in the speaker's tone
which sounded strangely in Adelaide's ears.
She turned on him a searching glance.

Devaux met it without shrinking.

"Is there any one," he continued, "who
would not give his life for the cause that
interests Adelaide Morin?"

Still her eyes were fixed on his, as if she
doubted what she heard.

Devaux drew nearer.

"Why," he said, "should I refrain from
uttering what my heart is bursting to reveal?
Mademoiselle Morin—Adelaide—I love you!
As man never yet loved woman, I love
you!" Encouraged by her silence, he
attempted to take her hand. She started back,
astonished.

"Love me!" she cried. "You! at this
hour!"

"From the first moment I saw you. If
you will be mine, all I have is yours. Every
resource I can command shall be at the
service of your king."

"There is no traffic, sir, in love," said
Adelaide, with dignity. "Were this even a
time to speak of such things, your words
would be wholly unavailing."

"If," pleaded Devaux, "I have chosen a
wrong moment"

"All moments are the same," interrupted