n lie safe within our walls is due, under God, to this roof.
And I call all here to witness that while I live the city of Geneva
shall never forget the debt that is due to this house and to the name of
Royaume!"

"Ay, ay!" cried the bandy-legged tailor. "I too! The small with the
great, the rich with the poor, as we have fought this night!"

"Ay! Ay!"

Some shook her by the hand, and some called Heaven to bless her, and
some with tears running down their faces--for no man there was his
common everyday self--did naught but look on her with kindness. And so,
each having done after his fashion, they trooped out again into the
street. A moment later, as the winter sun began to colour the distant
snows, and the second Sunday in December of the year 1602 broke on
Geneva, the voices of the multitude rose in the one hundred and
twenty-fourth psalm; to the solemn thunder of which, poured from
thankful hearts, the assembly accompanied Baudichon to his home a little
farther down the Corraterie.

Anne was about to close the door and secure it after them--with feelings
how different from those with which she had opened that door!--when it
resisted her shaking hands. She did not on the instant understand the
reason or what was the matter. She pushed more strongly, still it came
back on her, it opened widely and more widely. And then one who had
heard all, yet had not shown himself, one who had entered with
Baudichon's company, but had held himself hidden in the background,
pushed in, uninvited.

Uninvited? The rushlight still burned low and smokily, and she had not
relighted the lamp. The corners were dark with shadows, the hearth was
cold and empty and ugly, the shutters still blinded the windows. But the
coming of this uninvited one--love comes ever unexpected and
uninvited--how strangely, how marvellously, how beautifully did it
change all for her, light all, fill all.

As she felt his arms about her, as she clung to him, and sobbed on his
shoulder, as she strove for words and could not utter them for the
happiness of her heart, as she felt his kisses rain on her face in joy
and safety, who had not left her in sorrow, no, nor in the shadow of
death, nor for any fears of what man could do to him--let it be said
that her reward was as her trial.

Madame Royaume lived four years after that famous attack on the Free
City of Geneva which is called the Escalade; and during that time she
experienced no return of the mysterious m