"None . . . none but death, perhaps!" exclaimed the princess, in despair. "My God! . . . My God! . . . in what frightful apprehension am I obliged to live!" "Calm yourself! . . . Madelaine Landry will try every day to bring news of me to Martha. . . . You see . . . I am not seriously sick, although I may become so" . . . said the Marquis, with a feeble voice. "I cannot live in such anxiety," replied the princess. "I will flee with you . . . this very night." "Julie . . . it is impossible . . . nothing is prepared for such a step. In the name of Heaven, listen! . . . Do not compromise our future by precipitation." . . . "But I can see that you are suffering horribly; I will not leave you in such a state . . . it is impossible! Energy and courage will not fail me; where you have passed, I will pass. . . . Once away from here, I will go and put myself under the protection of the Judge of Solar; they will not dare to snatch me openly from the asylum I shall have chosen in the house of the Ambassador of Sardinia. But at least there . . . every day . . . every hour . . . I shall hear news from you." "Once again, Julie . . . it is impossible!" said Létorière, hardly able to stand, and leaning against one of the pillars of Madame Egmont's tomb. "And you believe," resumed Mlle. de Soissons, feelingly, "you believe that during five years I could have followed you step by step with all the solicitude of a mother . . . that I could have bravely struggled against the wishes of my family, to abandon you to-day, under I know not what pretext of propriety, suffering, almost dying. . . . No, no, this love is too pure and too holy to fear to show a bold front." "Julie . . . pardon me," murmured Létorière, falling on one of the steps of the tomb. "I have not told you all." "Heavenly Father! . . . he is ill!" . . . "Silence! . . . Julie . . . one last prayer . . . let me feel your lips on my forehead." "He is going to die! he is dying! Charles! . . . Charles! Charles!" . . . cried the princess despairingly; and throwing herself on her knees by the Marquis, still so tightly enveloped in his cloak that Mlle. de Soissons sought his hand in vain. "I have not told you . . . that the Baron of Ugeon challenged me," murmured Létorière, with a voice growing rapidly weaker. "A relative of the _Maréchale!_ . . . They have assassinated him! . . . traitorously assassinated him!" "No. . . . I fought . . . this morning . . . with him . . . it was honorably conducted . . . and I received . . . in the breast . . . a wound . . . Julie . . ." added the Marquis, faintly. "I wanted to see you again. . . . Adieu! . . . This ring . . . you know . . . you will take it again. . . . _Your look has followed me everywhere_ . . . EVEN UNTO DEATH. . . . My God! . . . pardon me! . . . I thought myself strong enough to live until to-morrow. . . . Julie . . . once more . . . Adieu." . . . And Létorière died as he uttered this last word. * * * * * * *