ngry gesture motioned them away.

Madame Roland knelt down and took her hand, but with the same abrupt
movement the other pushed her away, muttering, 'No, not you--not you.'

Again and again did they who knew her best present themselves, but with
the same ill success. Some she drove rudely back, to others she made a
sign to retire.

'Mayhap the person is not present that you wish for,' said Madame Roland
softly.

'He is here,' said she gently.

Name after name of those around did Madame Roland whisper, but all
without avail. At last, as Langres presented himself, Marietta turned
with a sort of aversion from him and said--

'I am in search of a prince, and you bring me a butcher.'

This insulting speech was not heard without a smile by some who knew
this man's origin, and detested the coarse ruffianism of his address.

'_Parbleau_, Madame! if you want princes you must go and seek them at
the Francais,' said Langres angrily, as he dropped back into the crowd.

Meanwhile, impelled by a strong desire to test the reality of her
vision, Gerald made his way through the throng, and dropping on one
knee, took her hand in his own.

A start and a faint exclamation--half surprise, half joy--broke from her
as she felt his touch. She passed her hand over his face, and through
his long hair, and then bending down kissed him on the forehead. She
whispered a few words rapidly in his ear, and sank back exhausted.

'She has fainted! Bring water quickly,' cried Lanthenas.

For a few minutes every attention was directed toward her; and it was
only as she showed signs of recovery, some one asked--

'What has become of De Noe and his friend?'

They were gone.

CHAPTER VI. 'LA GRUE'

When Gerald gained the street, it was to find it crammed with a dense
mob, whose wild cries and screams filled the air. No sooner was he
perceived by some of the multitude than a hundred yells saluted him,
with shouts of 'Down with the aristocrat; down with the tyrant, who
insults the friend of the people.' It was a mob who, in fervour of
enthusiasm for Mirabeau's memory, had closed each of the theatres in
succession, dispersed all meetings of public festivity, and even invaded
the precincts of private houses, to dictate a more becoming observance
toward the illustrious dead. Few men could bear such prescription less
patiently than Fitzgerald. The very thought of being ruled and directed
by the 'canaille' was insupportably offensive, and h