And Hoche laughed scornfully as he uttered the prophecy which was so soon to be fulfilled. "I have no fear but that I shall be able to satisfy them as to loyalty," replied Tournay, smiling at the absurdity of the great and popular Hoche pleading before the tribunal. "Well, go if you will, but understand, Tournay, that if you refuse to obey this summons, I will protect you. They shall bring no fictitious charges against a trusted officer in my army without entering into a contest with me." "I thank you again, my general, but I will not permit you to embroil yourself with the committee on my account. You are too indispensable to France. Now I will take the leave of absence you accord me. In ten days you may look for my return." General Hoche shook his head as Tournay left his presence:-- "I fear it will be longer than that, my friend," he sighed to himself. Colonel Tournay, accompanied by but one orderly, rode toward Paris. The feelings of pride and pleasure which his general's praise had raised in his heart were subdued by the humiliation at being summoned before the Committee of Public Safety. But there was a fire in his eye, and a hardening of the lines near the mouth which boded that he would not submit tamely to insult nor an unjust sentence. CHAPTER XIII THE SWORD OF ROCROY Citizen St. Hilaire had just come in from making a few purchases at the baker's shop in the Rue des Mathurins. Shortly after dusk that evening he had recalled to mind that he was without the gill of cream for his next morning's coffee, and also that the small white loaf which formed a part of his breakfast was at that moment reposing crisp and warm on the counter of the baker's shop a few doors distant. As Citizen St. Hilaire was very particular about his coffee and always liked to have a certain choice loaf that Jules, the baker in the Rue des Mathurins, made to perfection late every afternoon, he had braved the wind and rain of a stormy January evening, and gone out to procure his next morning's repast. Returning to his small apartment at the top of the house, he threw off his wet cloak and was on the point of extracting from his pocket a little can of cream, when a knock sounded at the door of the chamber which served him for sitting-room, dining-room, and library. Putting the can upon the table, he took up a lamp and went to the door. A young woman stood upon the threshold. She had evidently come in a carriage, for the costly clothes she wore were quite unspotted by the rain. "This is Citizen St. Hilaire," she said in a tone of conviction as she stepped into the room. St. Hilaire bowed and stepped back to place the lamp upon a small table near at hand, and stood waiting the further pleasure of his visitor.