as if by accident. She jumps and
squeals. Sly Picard watches another chance, shoves forward his
friend's bayonet to prick her again.

... Both she and her precious Jacques the Good-for-Nothing take it on
the run, enduring the buffets of the railing soldiery. Yes,
Picard--our genial rogue of a body servant--gets in the last bayonet
pricks and body wallops of this story!

CHAPTER XXX

THE AFTERMATH

Danton later suffered the dark hour and the snapping of Life's thread
through Robespierre's cruelty, but the glory of that valiant soul is
eternal.

His plea for the ways of Mercy--his gallant deeds (like this
particular one) of risking all for the life of a friend--were as
signposts to bewildered humanity. He foresaw the precipice down which
the Terrorists were headed for the pit:

"This time twelvemonth I was moving the creation of that same
Revolutionary Tribunal. I crave pardon for it of God and man. They are
all Brothers Cain--I leave the whole business in a frightful welter.
Robespierre will follow me; I drag down Robespierre!"

Of a verity, the following Thermidor or hot July saw the fate come
true. Universally execrated, the Tyrant was himself dragged down and
guillotined. Fell with him the rest of the murdering crew. Black
hatred--foul suspicion--wicked vengeance vanished like departing
plagues.

There dawned happier days wherein justice bore sway, and little
gardens of flowers and love and happiness again sprang up and
flourished. Among these blooming gardens let us seek the refuge of
Count and Countess de Linieres after the Storm has abated and the
kinsfolk it has sundered are united. The sisters of our story are
their especial care, daughter and foster-daughter of the exquisite
chatelaine.

Young Maurice de Vaudrey is their pride. The old gentleman has
reconciled himself to the passing of the Ancient Regime, and through
his nephew's good office has made his peace with the State.

On a bright and beautiful day as Henriette is flitting about the
garden, the Doctor--none other than our old friend of La Force--comes
with a precious gift.

"The removal of the cataract has been successful," he says, presenting
Louise. "Is it not a joy that she can see?"

The girls intertwine arms and laugh happily. The parents approach.
Henriette and Louise embrace the Count, now their foster parent and
protector. Back of the Count limps the devoted Pierre, now fully
restored from his old hurt of the bayonet th