"You will be very foolish and wrong not to do so, Arnold. You are a married man now, and have your wife to think about as well as yourself. You may be sure that there is not a single leader of the insurrection here who will not endeavor to escape under a false name; besides, even granting that, as you believe, the cause is a righteous one, you certainly cannot benefit it in the slightest by sacrificing your life. Your wife was a Communist Vivandiere a few days ago, now she is a quiet little wife nursing a sick husband." Glancing at Minette he saw an angry flush on her face, and a look of dogged determination; he made no remark, however, and after chatting with Arnold for some time returned to Passy. "That woman will bring destruction on them both or I am mistaken," he said to Mary; "fond as she may be of Dampierre, her enthusiasm for the Commune will take her from his side when the last struggle begins. Do you know, Mary, my presentiments about her have turned out marvellously correct." He opened his sketch-book. "Look at that," he said; "at the time I sketched it she was poised as a Spanish dancer, and had castanets in her hand; the attitude is precisely that in which she stood as a model, but it struck me at the moment that a knife would be more appropriate to her than a castanet, and you see I drew her so, and that is the precise attitude she stood in, dagger in hand, when I caught her wrist and prevented her from stabbing the man at her feet." "Don't show them to me, Cuthbert, it frightens me when you talk of her." "You must remember that she is a mixture, Mary; she is like a panther, as graceful, and as supple; a charming beast when it purrs and rubs itself against the legs of its keeper, terrible when, in passion, it hurls itself upon him. In the early days the students were, to a man, fascinated with her. I stood quite alone in my disapproval. Seeing her as I saw her to-day, I admit that she is charming, but I cannot forget her fury as she bounded, knife in hand, upon the man I had knocked down. Listen! do your hear that rattle of musketry down by Pont du Jour? The troops must be working their way up towards the gate. Possibly, it is the beginning of the end." Presently a Communist, with a red sash, rode furiously past, and in a quarter of an hour returned with a battalion of National Guards who had been stationed near the Arc de Triomphe. "Evidently, there is a some sharp business going on, Mary. It is hardly likely the troops can be attacking at this time of day, they would be sure to choose early morning, mass their forces under cover of darkness, and go at the gate at daybreak; still, there is no doubt from that musketry firing, they must be trying to establish themselves nearer the gate than before."