“The people of France! Oh! I had forgotten them!” cried Madame Gosner, with enthusiasm. “But, no, no! I could not have taken it even for them. Gold coming from the man or woman of Versailles would blister my palm. Let us think no more of it; while they have hands to work, neither Gosner’s wife or child will ever accept alms.” “God grant that the good man still lives!” said Monsieur Jacques. “God grant it!” answered the woman, sadly; “but sometimes it seems such a forlorn hope. If he is alive? How the words torture me! Oh! of all torments, uncertainty is the greatest!” “Trust me it shall not long be uncertainty.” “What do you mean—is this a promise?” “Upon which more than my poor life depends. Within three days we will know of a certainty that Dr. Gosner is alive and still a prisoner in the Bastille, or dead. Then it becomes our duty to save or avenge him.” “But in either case?” questioned the woman, wistfully. “In either case that monstrous pile is doomed. It shall no longer crouch like a monster on the heart of France. Will you not breathe one prayer for me?” These gentle words were spoken to the young girl, who lifted her beautiful eyes and met his gaze with a gentle smile. “I shall not cease to pray till we meet again,” she said. Madame Gosner heard this conversation, and was struck by the thrilling tenderness of Monsieur Jacques’ voice. “What is the meaning of this?” she inquired, sharply. “I do not understand.” “It means,” answered Monsieur Jacques, “that I love her better than my own soul. When I have rescued her father from his dungeon, this will be the reward I shall dare to claim.” The strong man fell upon his knees as he spoke, and pressed Marguerite’s hand to his lips. Then he arose, saying aloud, “God and our Lady prosper this day’s work—the reward is so great that it makes a coward of me.” CHAPTER LII. MONSIEUR JACQUES TURNS BLACKSMITH AGAIN.