at he
had now come to the real purpose for which he had sought the interview.
"I wish to leave, M. Mirande. I wish to leave your house at once. I do
not know," he continued hurriedly, before the elder man could utter the
dry retort which was on his lips, "whether you had it in your mind to
try me by leaving me with your daughter, or whether I have only my own
weakness to thank. But I must go. I am ashamed of myself, I hate myself
for it; but I cannot be with her and not feel what I ought not to feel.
Understand me," the young man continued, his cheeks pale; "it is not by
reason of any charm of hers, but because she is so like--so like my
wife--because she seems a dozen times a day to be my wife, that my
memory is unfaithful to Corinne--that I dare not remain here another
day!"

He stopped abruptly. M. Mirande coughed.

"This is a strange confession," he said, after a long pause. "You have
said nothing to Claire?"

"Heaven forbid!"

"Then say nothing!" the Republican replied with curt decision. "As for
leaving this place to-day, it is impossible. A crisis is at hand; this
house is watched. You would be recognized and arrested before you passed
ten yards from the door. Moreover," he went on, seeming to ponder deeply
as he spoke, "if you are right about Baudouin--and I doubt now whether I
have been Wise to trust him--I see great and immediate danger before
me. Therefore, if you would not desert the sinking ship, you must
remain."

"I dare not," the young man muttered, shaking his head.

"What?" the old Girondin answered, his voice swelling, his eyes growing
bright. "You a noble, and you dare not? You a noble, and you cannot
govern yourself? Consider, M. le Vicomte! A few days may see me traverse
the road so many traverse every day; the road of the guillotine. Then my
daughter will be alone, defenceless, unprotected. I ask you--for I have
no one else to whom I can turn--to be her brother and her guardian. Do
you refuse?"

"You no longer distrust me?" the Vicomte muttered, his cheek hot.

"When you came to me a week ago," Mirande answered, "I did not foresee
this crisis, nor the present danger. If I had, I might have received you
differently. But, see you, what if this be the way in which I would try
you?" he continued with energy. "What if this be the atonement heaven
has assigned to you? In that case, do you accept, or do you refuse?"

"I accept," the Vicomte answered solemnly, carried away by the other's
burst