ustrade, and adorned with a double row of ancient elms stunted and
twisted into grotesque shapes by the persistent action of the wind.

"These wide ramparts are a peculiarity of this city..." said a voice
close to her ear, "at times of peace they form an agreeable promenade
under the shade of the trees, and a delightful meeting-place for
lovers... or enemies...."

The sound brought her back to the ugly realities of the present: the
rose-scented garden at Richmond, the lazily flowing river, the tender
memories which for that brief moment had confronted her from out a happy
past, suddenly vanished from her ken. Instead of these the brine-laden
sea-air struck her quivering nostrils, the echo of the old Beffroi died
away in her ear, and now from out one of the streets or open places of
the sleeping city there came the sound of a raucous voice, shooting in
monotonous tones a string of words, the meaning of which failed to reach
her brain.

Not many feet below the window, the southern ramparts of the town
stretched away into the darkness. She felt unaccountably cold suddenly
as she looked down upon them and, with aching eyes, tried to pierce the
gloom. She was shivering in spite of the mildness of this early
autumnal night: her overwrought fancy was peopling the lonely walls
with unearthly shapes strolling along, discussing in spectral language a
strange duel which was to take place here between a noted butcher of men
and a mad Englishman overfond of adventure.

The ghouls seemed to pass and repass along in front of her and to be
laughing audibly because that mad Englishman had been offered his life
in exchange for his honour. They laughed and laughed, no doubt because
he refused the bargain--Englishmen were always eccentric, and in these
days of equality and other devices of a free and glorious revolution,
honour was such a very marketable commodity that it seemed ridiculous to
prize it quite so highly. Then they strolled away again and disappeared,
whilst Marguerite distinctly heard the scrunching of the path beneath
their feet. She leant forward to peer still further into the darkness,
for this sound had seemed so absolutely real, but immediately a
detaining hand was place upon her arm and a sarcastic voice murmured at
her elbow:

"The result, fair lady, would only be a broken leg or arm; the height is
not great enough for picturesque suicides, and believe me these ramparts
are only haunted by ghosts."

She drew bac