“It is I who am the cause of all, Gerard; and in the last extreme I could avert all ill even from you.” “We would die here in Malincourt one by one before that sacrifice could even be thought of, Gabrielle,” he answered earnestly. “Do you think there is a man of us Bourbons who would purchase his life at such a price?” “I would let no harm come to you,” she answered, her tone as resolute as his. “How you must love me,” he whispered tenderly, taking her in his arms and kissing her. “You would suffer worse than death for me; but you shall do better than that, dearest, you shall live for me.” “Pray God it may be so; but this Governor is a hard enemy.” “And we Bourbons are no easy ones. But how sweet to me this thought of your infinite love.” She smiled up to him and whispered with rueful self-reproach-- “Yet it could not spur my wits to remember what Lucette thought of on the instant.” “Lucette is not as my Gabrielle. Her heart is under the discipline of her judgment.” “And mine is all in all to me--all I have to live for; or so it seems almost. I cannot understand this sweet wild change in me. I am as one in a dream when I think of you, Gerard; self-centred, absorbed, self-lost. I had not thought it possible--for me. And yet that great blank past, when you were not in my life, is but a few hours ago. I seem to have stepped out of the wilderness with a single stride into a world all rich and lovely with delight. And it is real.” “It shall always be real to us, dearest.” “When these other shadows are past,” she sighed. “But they will pass I know. If I have my moods of doubt it is only the dread lest the dream shall be broken and I shall lose you.” “Nothing shall part us, Gabrielle, not even death,” he declared earnestly. “No. Not even death. For if I lost you, I should die. I should wish to die, indeed. And it is that which fills me with courage and energy to fight out with fight and conquer.” “Spoken as I would have my Gabrielle speak and think,” he said. Some one came then saying that Babillon was asking for Gabrielle, and he was brought in to them. “You have some news, Babillon?” asked Gabrielle. “I have not been idle, miladi. The news of your trouble has roused the burghers of the city, and at a word from you they will rise in your defence.” “Have you said aught that mademoiselle is here?” asked Gerard quickly. “No, my lord. The tale has spread from the Castle that you have all escaped from the city and are hiding in the hills to the north. That miladi should be thus driven to such extremities to avoid the persecutions of the Governor has caused the present tumult, and I am supposed to be able to communicate with her. Miladi has many adherents even among the troops of the Governor, and from them has gone abroad the story of her wrongs. The burghers have long had their bitter grievances and have been arming themselves; and now this last news is like to act as tinder to dry shavings and kindle the flame.”