rowns!"

The woman shuddered. Her hand and what it held were wet with blood.

"Hide them!" And Johann fainted away for the second time. When he came
to his senses, several minutes had passed. Quickly, with what remaining
strength he had, he unfolded his plan.

And her one idea was to save him. She drenched her handkerchief with the
ammonia, and bade him hold it to his nose, while she fetched a basin of
water and a sponge. Tenderly she drew back his coat and washed the blood
from his throat and lips, and moistened his hair.

"Listen!" he cried suddenly, rising on his elbow. "It is they! They
have found me! Quick! to the roof!" He struggled to his feet, with that
strength which imparts itself to dying men, super-human while it lasts.
He threw one arm around her neck. "Help me!"

And thus they gained the hall, mounted the flight to the roof, he
groaning and urging, she sobbing, hysterical, and frenzied. She climbed
the ladder with him, threw back the trap, and helped him on the roof.

"Now leave me!" he said, kissing her hand.

She gave him her lips, and went down to her rooms, and waited and
waited. This agony of suspense lasted a quarter of an hour, when again
came the clatter of hoofs. Would this, too, prove a false alarm? She
held her hand to her ear. If he were dying... They had stopped; they
were mounting the stairs; O God, they were beating on the door!

"Open!" cried a voice without; "open in the king's name!"

She gasped, but words would not come. She clenched her hands until the
nails sank into the flesh.

"Open, Madame, or down comes the door."

The actress in her came to the rescue. The calm of despair took
possession of her.

"In a moment, Messieurs," she said. Her voice was without agitation. She
opened the door and the cuirassiers pushed past her. "In heaven's name,
Messieurs, what does this mean?"

"We want Johann Kopf," was the answer, "and we have it from good
authority that he is here. Do not interfere with us; you are in no wise
connected with the affair."

"He is not here," she replied. She wondered at herself, her tones were
so even, her mind was so clear.

One of the cuirassiers caught up her gown. "What's this, Madame?" he
demanded, pointing to the dark wet stains; "and this?" to her hands,
"and this?" to the spots on the carpet, the basin and the sponge. "To
the roof, men; he has gone by the roof! Up with you!"

The ballet dancer held forth her hands in supplication; life forsook