est, then, indeed, life could hold no
greater happiness for him.

Above all now he wanted to be cool and calculating, to curb the
excitement which the Latin blood in him called forth at every mention of
the loved one's name. He tried to think of Percy, of his calmness, his
easy banter with an enemy; he resolved to act as Percy would act under
these circumstances.

Firstly, he steadied his voice, and drew his well-knit, slim figure
upright. He called to mind all his friends in England, with their rigid
manners, their impassiveness in the face of trying situations. There was
Lord Tony, for instance, always ready with some boyish joke, with boyish
impertinence always hovering on his tongue. Armand tried to emulate Lord
Tony's manner, and to borrow something of Percy's calm impudence.

"Citizen Chauvelin," he said, as soon as he felt quite sure of the
steadiness of his voice and the calmness of his manner, "I wonder if
you are quite certain that that light grip which you have on my arm
is sufficient to keep me here walking quietly by your side instead
of knocking you down, as I certainly feel inclined to do, for I am a
younger, more vigorous man than you."

"H'm!" said Chauvelin, who made pretence to ponder over this difficult
problem; "like you, citizen St. Just, I wonder--"

"It could easily be done, you know."

"Fairly easily," rejoined the other; "but there is the guard; it is
numerous and strong in this building, and--"

"The gloom would help me; it is dark in the corridors, and a desperate
man takes risks, remember--"

"Quite so! And you, citizen St. Just, are a desperate man just now."

"My sister Marguerite is not here, citizen Chauvelin. You cannot barter
my life for that of your enemy."

"No! no! no!" rejoined Chauvelin blandly; "not for that of my enemy, I
know, but--"

Armand caught at his words like a drowning man at a reed.

"For hers!" he exclaimed.

"For hers?" queried the other with obvious puzzlement.

"Mademoiselle Lange," continued Armand with all the egoistic ardour
of the lover who believes that the attention of the entire world is
concentrated upon his beloved.

"Mademoiselle Lange! You will set her free now that I am in your power."

Chauvelin smiled, his usual suave, enigmatical smile.

"Ah, yes!" he said. "Mademoiselle Lange. I had forgotten."

"Forgotten, man?--forgotten that those murderous dogs have arrested
her?--the best, the purest, this vile, degraded country has ever