“Write,” cried Lady Dorothea, sternly. “Begin, 'My Lady.' No. 'I approach your Ladyship for the last time.' No, not that. 'If the sincere sorrow in which I pen these lines.' No. Do it yourself. You best can express the shame your heart should feel in such a moment. Let the words be your own!” Kate leaned over the paper and wrote rapidly for a few seconds. Having finished, she read over the lines, and seemed to reflect on them. “Show me that paper!” cried Lady Dorothea, impatiently. But, without obeying the command, Kate said,--“Your Ladyship will not be able to leave Paris for at least forty hours. By that time the Monarchy will have run its course in France. You will probably desire, however, to escape from the scenes of turbulence sure to ensue. This will secure you a free passage, whichever road you take.” “What raving is all this?” said Lady Dorothea, snatching the paper from her hand, and then reading aloud in French,-- “'The authorities are required to aid and tender all assistance in their power to Lady Dorothea Martin and all who accompany her, neither giving nor suffering any opposition to be given to her or them in the prosecution of their journey.' (Signed) “Jules Lagrange, “'Minister of Police _ad interim_' “And this in your own hand, too!” exclaimed Lady Dorothea, contemptuously. “Yes, madam; but it will entitle it to the seal of the Prefecture, and entitle _you_ to all that it professes.” “So that I have the honor to shelter within my walls a chief of this insurrection,--if it be worthy of such a name; one in the confidence of this stupid _canaille_, who fancy that the fall of a Monarchy is like a row in a _guinguette!_” “Your Ladyship is no longer in a position to question me or arraign my actions. Before two days are over, the pageant of a king will have passed off the stage, and men of a different stamp take the direction of affairs. One of these will be he whose name I have affixed to that paper,--not without due warranty to do so. Your Ladyship may or may not choose to avail yourself of it.” “I spurn the imposition,” said Lady Dorothea, tearing it in fragments. “So poor a cheat could not deceive _me_. As for yourself--” “Oh, do not bestow a thought upon _me_, my Lady. I can suffice for my own guidance. I only wait for morning to leave this house.” “And it is to a city in such a state as this you would confide yourself. Truly, mademoiselle, Republicanism has a right to be proud of you. You are no half-convert to its principles.” “Am I again to say, my Lady, that your control over me has ceased?” “It has not. It shall not cease till I have restored you to the humble roof from which I took you,” said Lady Dorothea, passionately. “Your father is our creature; he has no other subsistence than what we condescend to bestow on him. He shall know, when you re-enter his doors, why and for what cause you are there. Till that time come, you are, as you have been, in my service.”