e a good deal of liking for my own life, and
have a marked objection to losing my head. You see I have people
at home who are fond of me, and who want to see me back again with
that head on my shoulders."

"I know, Harry; I know," Jeanne said with her eyes full of tears.
"Do not think that I am ungrateful because I talk so. I am always
thinking how wrong it is that you should be staying here risking
your life for us instead of going home to those who love you. I
think sometimes Virginie and I ought to give ourselves up, and then
you could go home." And Jeanne burst into tears.

"My dear Jeanne," Harry said soothingly, "do not worry yourself
about me. It would have been just as dangerous at the time your
father was taken prisoner for me to have tried to escape from
the country as it was to stay here--in fact I should say that it
was a good deal more dangerous; and at present, as Robespierre's
secretary, I am in no danger at all. It is a little disagreeable
certainly serving a man whom one regards in some respects as being
a sort of wild beast; but at the same time, in his own house, I
am bound to say, he is a very decent kind of man and not at all a
bad fellow to get on with.

"As to what I have done for you, so far as I see I have done nothing
beyond bringing you here in the first place, and coming to have a
pleasant chat with you every evening. Nor, with the best will in
the world, have I been able to be of the slightest assistance to
Marie. As we say at home, my intentions are good; but so far the
intentions have borne no useful fruit whatever. Come, Jeanne, dry
your eyes, for it is not often that I have seen you cry. We have
thrown in our lot together, and we shall swim or sink in company.

"You keep up my spirits and I keep up yours. Don't let there be any
talk about gratitude. There will be time enough for that if I ever
get you safely to England. Then, perhaps, I may send in my bill
and ask for payment."

Harry spoke lightly, and Jeanne with a great effort recovered her
composure; and after that, although the trial and danger of the
king were nightly discussed and lamented, she never said a word as
to any possibility of the catastrophe being averted.

One day towards the end of February Harry felt a thrill run through
him as, on glancing over the list of persons to be tried on the
following day, he saw the name of Marie, daughter of the ci-devant
Marquis de St. Caux. Although his knowledge of Robespierre'