The face was noble, but care-worn and weary, as of a man who had heavy burdens to bear. Just then, however, he turned towards one of the lads, bending his head to catch some laughing remark of his, and a smile flashed like sunlight over his features, revealing a rare and spiritual beauty unseen by her before. She was satisfied. Henri, meanwhile, was beside himself with excitement. He took off his cap, waved it in the air, then taking advantage of a momentary pause in the incessant and deafening cries of “Vive Alexandre! Vive l’Empereur de Russie!” that filled the street, he shouted aloud, in his clear, high-pitched voice, “_Vive l’aide-de-camp de St. Priest!_” Clémence gazed at her brother in amazement “What do you mean? Who is the aide-de-camp de St. Priest?” she whispered. “He has heard! He understands! He is bowing to us!” cried Henri, without heeding her. “God bless him! God grant me one day to tell him what he has done for me. Or, perhaps, _you_ will tell him for me, Clémence?” “Dear brother, let us come home. This crowd is too much for you,” said Clémence in an anxious tone, as she saw his rapidly changing colour and the tears that gathered in his eyes. “No; it is all right. Thank God I have seen him once again. When they have passed on I will take you home by some quiet way, and tell you why I am so deeply moved.” As he spoke they saw Ivan on horseback, amidst the group that followed the Czar. He saluted them; and as he did so his face lighted up until it grew absolutely radiant with satisfaction. “I told him,” whispered Henri, “that if he saw you here wearing a coloured dress he might rejoice.” “O Henri!” cried the horror-stricken Clémence, her face overspread with blushes. “How wicked of you! What will he think?” “Nothing about _you_, sister mine. He knows you were not in the plot; so be at rest. Now, let us come away; our work is done.”