"Agatha," said Mademoiselle de Rochefort, "I am going back to Paris."

Agatha turned and looked at her mistress in the greatest surprise.

"Do I understand you, mademoiselle, or am I dreaming? It is impossible that you could have said"—

"I am going back to Paris."

EdmÉ repeated the words quietly, but there was a decision in her manner which Agatha understood full well. She gave a gasp of consternation and sank into a chair, fixing her wide-open eyes upon EdmÉ's face, while she waited to hear more.

EdmÉ was seated in her bedroom in the Castle of Hagenhof. It was evening, and two candles, one upon the dressing-table, the other upon a stand at Agatha's side, gave to the room a mild half-light. The curtains were not yet drawn, and through the large casement the stars gleamed softly.

"During the five months we have lived in absolute quiet and security here at Hagenhof," EdmÉ continued, looking out of the window at the forest of pine trees that stretched away from the castle like a sea of ink, "we have been completely shut off from the world outside, hearing almost nothing of the events taking place there."

"That was your wish, was it not?" asked Agatha as EdmÉ paused.

Mademoiselle de Rochefort did not make any direct reply, but continued speaking as if she was answering her own thoughts, rather than conversing with her maid.

"There was a great battle fought. It was a full month afterward that I heard of it and of the glory won by Colonel Tournay. The Republicans were victorious. Had they been defeated, the restoration of the Monarchy would have been one step nearer. But the allies were defeated, their finest troops were sent flying back before the raw recruits. And I! Did I mourn the defeat of our allies as much as I rejoiced in Colonel Tournay's triumph? The hero of Landau! That is what he was called."

Then, turning toward Agatha, she exclaimed: "How do you think they have rewarded him in France? They have thrown this hero into prison. They have kept him there for months. And I heard of it only to-night from the officers who returned with Colonel von Waldenmeer yesterday. They spoke of affairs in France. They said that the Republic is approaching its final doom. The leaders are now at discord. The terrible Danton has been sent to the guillotine. They said that the officers of the army are being suspected; mentioned Colonel Tournay's arrest, and then casually passed on to other topics. I heard no more. I could not listen after that, and came up here as soon as I could withdraw from the table. Agatha, I am going back to France."

"Why are you going?" asked Agatha gently, fearing to antagonize her mistress in her present mood.

Again EdmÉ looked out of the window at the swaying tops of the mournful pines. "I cannot stay here," she answered fiercely. "The melancholy of the place is killing me."

"Do not be a child, mademoiselle," said Agatha in the tone of authority she sometimes employed in reasoning with her beloved mistress. "If you are not happy here, we will leave. Perhaps we can go to Berlin, or to London. But never to France!"

"Twice has he risked his life for me," said EdmÉ, again speaking to herself. "I owe so much to him, and have repaid him nothing."

"All that is true," persisted the cool-headed Agatha. "He aided you because he had the power; if you could serve him, it would be different. But you can do nothing. If you go to Paris, you will be arrested and guillotined. That is all. No, my dear mistress, you must not go."

"I shall go," answered EdmÉ firmly. "If I am apprehended, so much the worse."

"You will only place yourself in peril," cried Agatha. "You must not go!"

"When Colonel Tournay parted from me," said EdmÉ impressively, "he swore that we should some day meet again. He would keep his word if it were possible. Fate has decreed that he shall not come to me; she decrees, instead, that I shall go to him."

"Mademoiselle," cried Agatha in a horrified tone, "what are you saying? Think of your rank, think of your family, your pride of birth!"

"My rank!" laughed EdmÉ scornfully. "Did that avail me when I crossed the river Loire? My pride of birth! Did that protect and bring me safely out of France? A brave and loyal man was my sole protection. He is now in the greatest danger. I am going to him."

There was a ring in her voice as she spoke that seemed to bid defiance to the long line of ancestry behind her.

"Now that you know that I am not to be swayed from my determination, will you go with me or remain here?"

"I shall go with you, mademoiselle."

"We must leave here clandestinely, Agatha. I little thought, when the kindly Grafin von Waldenmeer took me under her roof, I should leave it like this."

"We shall have to travel through France in the disguise of peasants, mademoiselle," said Agatha.

"We have had some experience in that disguise, Agatha. You know how well I shall be able to play my part."

From Hagenhof, starting at dead of night, the two women traveled to Paris. It took them three weeks to make the journey that they had once made in five days. But they were obliged to travel slowly, as became two women of their class.

On the morning of the twentieth day they found themselves in the Rue Vaugirard in Paris, almost under the very shadow of the Luxembourg. Agatha stopped before the doorway of a small house in the window of which a placard announced that lodgings were to let within.

"This is what we want, mademoiselle," said the girl. "I will knock here."

A woman answered the summons. She was about forty years old, with stooping shoulders, and hands gnarled and twisted by hard work. Her skin was dark, but an unhealthy pallor was upon her face, which, thin and worn, was lightened by a pair of brilliant eyes.

"Can we obtain lodging here, good citizeness?" inquired Agatha. The woman did not reply at once, being busy looking at them closely with her bright eyes.

"Have you any lodgings to let?" said Agatha once more.

"Perhaps," was the reply.

"Perhaps," repeated EdmÉ somewhat impatiently. "Do you not know?"

"I am Citizeness Privat," the woman answered. "There are lodgings to let in this house, most assuredly, and I have charge of the renting of them; but I act for another, and he," with emphasis on the pronoun, "insists that I shall only take those who can furnish references. Can you do so?"

"Let us come inside and we will see what can be done," said Agatha, pushing forward. The woman stepped back, and EdmÉ followed Agatha into the house. Agatha closed the door before speaking.

"Citizeness Privat," she said, "we are two women from the country, who have come to Paris for the first time. We know no one here, and can give you no references except money. Will that not satisfy you?" And Agatha drew a purse from her pocket.

"It will satisfy me, but not him who employs me. If I disobey him I may lose this place which is my only shelter." EdmÉ caught a glimpse of a neat sitting-room through a half-open door. The cool and quiet of the house were doubly attractive after the noise and heat of the city streets.

"We must stay here," she whispered to Agatha. The latter opened her purse.

"We will pay you well," she said persuasively. The citizeness shook her head mournfully, and put one hand upon the handle of the door.

"Stay one moment, I implore you!" exclaimed EdmÉ impulsively. "Listen to what I have to say."

The citizeness turned her strange eyes upon EdmÉ. The latter started as she beheld the expression on the pale face.

"Agatha! look!" EdmÉ cried out in alarm, and the next instant the Citizeness Privat had fallen to the floor. Quickly EdmÉ bent over her. "She has fainted. How cold her hands are! Look at her face. It is ghastly. It cannot be that she is dead, Agatha?" EdmÉ continued in a tone of awe.

Agatha took one hand and began to chafe it to restore the circulation while EdmÉ rubbed the other. "She is breathing," said Agatha. "Perhaps with your assistance, mademoiselle, we can lift and carry her into one of the rooms."

Between them the Citizeness Privat was carried gently into her room and placed upon a bed. To their intense relief, the woman gave a sigh, and opened her eyes as she sank back on the pillows.

"Are you in great suffering, poor creature?" asked EdmÉ, compassionately surveying the pale features. Citizeness Privat signed that she was not in any pain, and after a few moments, during which her breath came regularly, she said faintly:—

"I shall be better soon; I am used to these attacks of sudden giddiness. My greatest fear is that they may seize me some day while I am in the streets. For that reason I dread to go out alone."

"Let us remove her clothing and put her in the bed where she will be more comfortable," suggested Mademoiselle de Rochefort, and in spite of the feeble remonstrances of the sick woman they soon had her comfortably installed between the sheets.

"You are very good," she murmured.

As Agatha removed the gown a card fell from the pocket to the floor.

"I shall be unable to attend to my task this evening," sighed the woman Privat, as if the fluttering pasteboard recalled to mind some urgent duty. "I can ill afford to let the work go either. It helps so much towards my support, but to-day it will be impossible."

EdmÉ picked up the card, and in doing so glanced at it casually, then read it with a start:—

FRENCH REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL.

Permit the Citizeness Jeanne Privat to enter the various rooms of the tribunal when engaged upon her routine duties.

The Citizeness Privat smiled faintly. "I see you wonder what I have to do with the tribunal," she said; "I merely go there in the afternoon at dark and clean up the rooms. There are many of them, and as I am the only person employed to look after them, they get into a dreadful state of disorder and dirt." Here the citizeness was taken with a fit of coughing.

EdmÉ thrust the card mechanically into her pocket, and ran to fetch a glass of water.

"You are very good to me," said she faintly as soon as she could speak. "I turned you away," a slight flush coming to her cheek. "Believe me, it was not my heart that spoke when I told you that I could not let you have the lodging; I was merely obeying the commands of the owner, who allows me my bare rent for my services. He is very strict, but at the risk of incurring his displeasure, I shall refuse to let you go after this kindness."

"Do not fear; do not trouble about that," replied Mademoiselle de Rochefort quietly, "but tell me more about your work in the tribunal. Is it that which has worn you so?"

"No, it is not so wearing, only I am far from strong, and sometimes I get so fatigued. My brother, who is a turnkey in the conciergerie, obtained this employment for me, as it was thought I could do it; but I fear I shall have to give it up."

EdmÉ smoothed the counterpane. "Do not worry," she said gently, "but go to sleep now. We will remain here until you are better."

The citizeness smiled faintly, her lips moved as if in apology; then she fell into a quiet sleep.

Agatha turned to her mistress.

"Go into the next room, mademoiselle, and rest there. I will watch over this sick woman."

"I cannot rest, dear Agatha; I have something else to do, but you must stay here until I return."

"Where are you going?"

"To the Luxembourg."

"Not now, mademoiselle; wait—I will accompany you."

"No, Agatha, I prefer to go alone; you must remain here until I come back," commanded EdmÉ.

Agatha knew it would be useless for her to remonstrate further, so she resumed her place by the bedside, and with the greatest anxiety saw her mistress leave the house, and, passing by the window, disappear up the street.