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Amiens； that evening； of the attack that was to be made upon
Bellecour。 Not unnaturally the Marquis was mistrustful of the ends
which that Commissioner； whoever he might be； looked to serve by so
unusual an act。 Far better did it sort with the methods of the
National Convention and its members to leave the butchering of
aristocrats to take its course。 He sought information at the
Captain's hands； but the officer was reticent to the point of
curtness； and so； their anxiety but little relieved； since it might
seem that they had but escaped from Scylla to be engulfed in
Charbydis； the aristocrats at Bellecour spent the night in odious
suspense。 Those that were tending the wounded had perhaps the best
of it； since thus their minds were occupied and saved the torture
of speculation。
The proportion of slain was mercifully small： of twenty that had
fallen it was found that but six were dead； the others being more
or less severely hurt。 Conspicuous among the men that remained；
and perhaps the bravest of them all was old Des Cadoux。 He had
recovered his snuff…box； than which there seemed to be nothing of
greater importance in the world； and he moved from group to group
with here a jest and there a word of encouragement； as seemed best
suited to those he addressed。 Of the women； Mademoiselle de
Bellecour and her sharp tongued mother； showed certainly the most
undaunted fronts。
Suzanne had not seen her betrothed since the fight upon the stairs。
But she was told that he was unhurt； and that he was tending a
cousin of his who had been severely wounded in the head。
It was an hour or so after sunrise when he sought her out； and they
stood in conversation together … a very jaded pair … looking down
from one of the windows upon the stalwart blue…coats that were
bivouacked in the quadrangle。
Suddenly on the still morning air came the sound of hoof…beats； and
as they looked they espied a man in a cocked hat and an ample black
cloak riding briskly up the avenue。
〃See？〃 exclaimed Ombreval； 〃yonder at last comes the great man we
are awaiting … the Commissioner of that rabble they call the
National Convention。 Now we shall know what fate is reserved for
us。〃
〃But what can they do？〃she asked。
〃It is the fashion to send people of our station to Paris；〃 he
replied； 〃to make a mock of us with an affair they call a trial
before they murder us。〃
She sighed。
〃Perhaps this gentleman is more merciful；〃was the hope she expressed。
〃Merciful？〃 he mocked。 〃Ma foi； a ravenous tiger may be merciful
before one of these。 Had your father been wise he had ordered the
few of us that remained to charge those soldiers when they entered；
and to have met our end upon their bayonets。 That would have been
a merciful fate compared with the mercy of this so…called Commissioner
is likely to extend us。〃
It seemed to be his way to find fault； and that warp in his character
rendered him now as heroic … in words … as he had been erstwhile
scornful。
Suzanne shuddered； brave girl though she was。
〃Unless you can conceive thoughts of a pleasanter complexion；〃 she
said； 〃I should prefer your silence； M。 d'Ombreval。〃
He laughed in his disdainful way … for he disdained all things；
excepting his own person and safety … but before he could make any
answer they were joined by the Marquis and his son。
In the courtyard the horseman was now dismounting； and a moment or
two later they heard the fall of feet； upon the stairs。 A soldier
threw open the door； and holding it； announced：
〃The Citizen…deputy La Boulaye； Commissioner of the National
Convention to the army of General Dumouriez。〃
〃This；〃 mocked Ombreval； to whom the name meant nothing； 〃is the
representative of a Government of strict equality； and he is
announced with as much pomp as was ever an ambassador of his
murdered Majesty's。〃
Then a something out of the common in the attitude of his companions
arrested his attention。 Mademoiselle was staring with eyes full of
the most ineffable amazement； her lips parted； and her cheeks whiter
than the sleepless night had painted them。 The Marquis was scowling
in a surprise that seemed no whit less than his daughter's； his head
thrust forward； and his jaw fallen。 The Vicomte； too； though in a
milder degree； offered a countenance that was eloquent with
bewilderment。 From this silent group Ombreval turned his tired eyes
to the door and took stock of the two men that had entered。 One of
these was Captain Juste； the officer in command of the military； the
other was a tall man； with a pale face； an aquiline nose； a firm
jaw； and eyes that were very stern … either of habit or because they
now rested upon the man who four years ago had used him so cruelly。
He stood a moment in the doorway as if enjoying the amazement which
had been sown by his coming。 There was no mistaking him。 It was
the same La Boulaye of four years ago； and yet it was not quite the
same。 The face had lost its boyishness； and the strenuous life he
had lived had scored it with lines that gave him the semblance of
a greater age than was his。 The old； poetic melancholy that had
dwelt in the secretary's countenance was now changed to strength
and firmness。 Although little known as yet to the world at large；
the great ones of the Revolution held him in high esteem； and looked
upon him as a power to be reckoned with in the near future。 Of
Robespierre … who； it was said； had discovered him and brought him
to Paris … he was the protege and more than friend； a protection
and friendship this which in '93 made any man almost omnipotent in
France。
He was dressed in a black riding…suit； relieved only by the white
neck…cloth and the tricolour sash of office about his waist。 He
removed his cocked hat； beneath which the hair was tied in a club
with the same scrupulous care as of old。
Slowly he advanced into the salon； and his sombre eyes passed from
the Marquis to Mademoiselle。 As they rested upon her some of the
sternness seemed to fade from their glance。 He found in her a
change almost as great as that which she had found in him。 The
lighthearted； laughing girl of nineteen； who had scorned his
proffered love when he had wooed her that April morning to such
disastrous purpose； was now ripened into a stately woman of
three…and…twenty。 He had thought his boyish passion dead and buried；
and often in the years that were gone had he smiled softly to
himself at the memory of his ardour； as we smile at the memory of
our youthful follies。 Yet now； upon beholding her again； so
wondrously transformed； so tall and straight； and so superbly
beautiful； he experienced an odd thrill and a weakening of the
stern purpose that had brought him to Bellecour。
Then his glance moved on。 A moment it rested on the supercilious；
high…bred countenance of the Vicomte d'Ombreval； standing with so
proprietary an air beside her； then it passed to the kindly old
face of Des Cadoux； and he recalled how this gentleman had sought
to stay the flogging of him。 An instant it hovered on the Marquis；
who … haggard of face and with his arm in a sling … was observing
him with an expression in which scorn