Suddenly a turnkey stumbled in. He had been drinking, and stood blinking a moment as, coming from the dark corridor, he met the level sunlight full. Then he called Mlle de Rochambeau’s name, and as she awoke with a sense of startled amazement Marguerite flung soft arms about her. "Ah, ma mie, ma belle, ma bien aimée!" she cried, sobbing. "Chut!" said the man, with a leer. "She ’d rather hear that from some one else, I take it, my little Citoyenne. If I ’m not mistaken there ’s some one ready enough. There ’s no need to cry this time, since it is only to see a visitor that I want the Citoyenne. There ’s a Citizen Deputy below with an order to see her, so less noise, please, and march." The blood ran back to Aline’s cheek. Only two days back the Abbé had mentioned Dangeau’s name, and had said he was returning. If it should be he? The thought flashed, and was checked even as it flashed, but she followed the man with a step that was buoyant in spite of her fatigue. Then in the gaoler’s room—Hébert! Just a moment’s pause, and she came forward with a composure that hid God knows what of shrinking, maidenly disgust. Hébert was not attractive to look at. His garments were dusty and wine-stained, his creased, yellow linen revealing a frowsy and unshaven chin, where the reddish hair showed unpleasantly upon the fat, unwholesome flesh. He laughed, disclosing broken teeth. "It was not I whom you expected, hein Citoyenne," he said, with diabolical intuition. "He gets tired easily, you see, our good Jacques Dangeau, and lips that have been kissed too often don’t tempt him any more." His leer pointed the insult, and an intolerable burning invaded every limb, but she steadied herself against the wall, and leaned there, her head still up, facing him. "Did you think I had forgotten you too?" he pursued, smiling odiously. "Ah! I see you did me that injustice, but you do not know me, ma belle. Mine is such a faithful heart. It never forgets, never; and it always gets what it wants in the end. I have been in prison too, as you may have heard—yes, you did? And grieved for me, pretty one, that I am sure of. A few rascals crossed my path and annoyed me for the moment. Where are they now? Trembling under arrest. Had they not detained me, I should have flown to you long ago; but I trust that now you acquit me of the discourtesy of keeping a lady waiting. I am really the soul of politeness." There was a pause. Mademoiselle held to the wall, and kept her eyes away from his face. "Your affair comes on to-morrow," he said, with a brisk change of tone. For the moment she really felt a sense of thankfulness. So she was delivered from the unbearable affront of this man’s presence what did death matter? Hébert guessed her thoughts. "Rather death than me, hein?" he said, leaning closer. "Is that what you are thinking, Ma’mselle White-face?" Her eyes spoke for her.