had rushed precipitately from Brussels up to Ghent
to warn His Majesty the King of France that all hope of saving his
throne was now at an end, and that the wisest course to pursue was to
return to England and resign himself once more to obscurity and exile.

M. le Prince de Conde too had gone off to Antwerp in a huge barouche,
having under his care the treasure and jewels of the crown hastily
collected three months ago at the Tuileries.

In every open space a number of prisoners were being guarded by mixed
patrols of Dutch, Belgian or German soldiers, and their cry of "Vive
l'Empereur!" which they reiterated with unshakable obstinacy roused the
ire of their captors, and provoked many a savage blow, and many a broken
head.

But St. Genis did not pause to look on these sights: he had not the
strength to stand up in the midst of these confused masses of
terror-driven men and women, and to shout to them that they were
fools--that all their panic must be turned to joy, their lamentations to
shouts of jubilation. News of victory was bound to spread through the
city within the next hour, and he himself longed only to see Crystal, to
reassure her as to his own safety, to see the light of happiness kindled
in her eyes by the news which he brought. He had not the strength for
more.

It was old Jeanne who opened the door at the lodgings in the rue du
Marais when Maurice finally rang the bell there.

"M. le Marquis!" she exclaimed. "Oh! but you are ill."

"Only very tired and weak, Jeanne," he said. "It has been an awful day."

"Ah! but M. le Comte will be pleased!"

"And Mademoiselle Crystal?" asked Maurice with a smile which had in it
all the self-confidence of the accepted lover.

"Mademoiselle Crystal will be happy too," said Jeanne. "She has been so
unhappy, so desperately anxious all day."

"Can I see her?"

"Mademoiselle is out for the moment, M. le Marquis. And M. le Comte has
gone to the Cercle des Legitimistes in the rue des Cendres--perhaps M.
le Marquis knows--it is not far."

"I would like to see Mademoiselle Crystal first. You understand, don't
you, Jeanne?"

"Yes, I do, M. le Marquis," sighed faithful Jeanne, who was always
inclined to be sentimental.

"How long will she be, do you think?"

"Oh! another half hour. Perhaps more. Mademoiselle has gone to the
cathedral. If M. le Marquis will give himself the trouble to walk so
far, he cannot fail to see Mademoiselle when she comes out of church."