is her heart, Mr. Temple, that we fear the most. Last night I
thought the end had come. It cannot be very far away now. Sorrow and
remorse have killed her, Monsieur. The one thing that she has prayed for
through the long nights is that she might see you once again and
obtain your forgiveness. God Himself does not withhold forgiveness, Mr.
Temple," said the Vicomtesse, gently. "Shall any of us presume to?"

A spasm of pain crossed his face, and then his expression hardened.

"I might have been a useful man," he said; "she ruined my life--"

"And you will allow her to ruin the rest of it?" asked the Vicomtesse.

He stared at her.

"If you do not go to her and forgive her, you will remember it until you
die," she said.

He sank down on the chair opposite to her, his head bowed into his
hands, his elbows on the table among the cards. At length I went and
laid my hands upon his shoulder, and at my touch he started. Then he did
a singular thing, an impulsive thing, characteristic of the old Nick I
had known. He reached across the table and seized the hand of Madame la
Vicomtesse. She did not resist, and her smile I shall always remember.
It was the smile of a woman who has suffered, and understands.

"I will go to her, Madame!" he said, springing to his feet. "I will go
to her. I--I was wrong."

She rose, too, he still clinging to her hand, she still unresisting. His
eye fell upon me.

"Where is my hat, Davy?" he asked.

The Vicomtesse withdrew her hand and looked at me.

"Alas, it is not quite so simple as that, Mr. Temple," she said;
"Monsieur de Carondelet has first to be reckoned with."

"She is dying, you say? then I will go to her. After that Monsieur de
Carondelet may throw me into prison, may hang me, may do anything he
chooses. But I will go to her."

I glanced anxiously at the Vicomtesse, well knowing how wilful he was
when aroused. Admiration was in her eyes, seeing that he was heedless of
his own danger.

"You would not get through the gates of the city. Monsieur le Baron
requires passports now," she said.

At that he began to pace the little room, his hands clenched.

"I could use your passport, Davy," he cried. "Let me have it."

"Pardon me, Mr. Temple, I do not think you could," said the Vicomtesse.
I flushed. I suppose the remark was not to be resisted.

"Then I will go to-night," he said, with determination. "It will be no
trouble to steal into the city. You say the house has yellow and