an old book of Renan's, "The Abbess Juarre,"
in which the eminent skeptic had somewhat clumsily attempted to
demonstrate that if the world unmistakably announced its finish within
three days the inhabitants would give themselves up to an orgy of love.

Well, her world might end to-morrow. Why should she not live to-night?

Her arrogant will demanded the happiness that this man, whom she had
never ceased to love for a moment, to whom she had been unconsciously
faithful, alone could give her. Moreover, her reason working side by
side with her imperious desires, assured her that if he really were
spying, and, whatever his passion, meant to remold her will to his and
snatch the keystone from the arch, it were wise to keep him here. It was
evident that he had no suspicion of the imminence of the revolution.

And it was years since she had felt all woman, not a mere intellect
ignoring the tides in the depths of her being. The revelation that she
was still young and that her will and all the proud achievements of her
mind could dissolve at this man's touch in the crucible of her passion
filled her with exultation.

She melted into his arms and lifted hers heavily to his neck.

"Franz! Franz!" she whispered.

2

Gisela moved softly about the room looking for fresh candles. Those that
had replaced the moonlight hours ago had burned out and she did not
dare draw the curtains apart: it was too near the dawn. She had no idea
what time it was. But she must have light, for to think was imperative,
and her mental processes were always clogged in the dark.

She found the old box of candles and placed four in the brackets and lit
them. Then she went over to the couch and looked down upon Franz von
Nettelbeck. He slept heavily, on his side, his arms relaxed but slightly
curved. In a few moments she went down the hall to her bedroom and took
a cold bath and made a cup of strong coffee; then dressed herself in a
suit of gray cloth, straight and loose, that her swiftest movements
might not be impeded. In the belt under the jacket she adjusted her
pistol and dagger.

She returned to the _Saal_ and once more looked down upon the
unconscious man. How long he had been falling asleep! She had offered
him wine, meaning to drug it, but he had refused lest it inflame his
wounds. She had offered to make him coffee, but he would not let her
go.

It was in the complete admission of her reluctance to leave him, even
after he slept, and wh