By now the priest was upon the scaffold, the paper he had waved in the air was in the hands of the Lieutenant du Roi, who was scanning it hurriedly, A moment later he turned round to some of his warders and said: "Remove the Prince de Beaurepaire. His life is spared. To-morrow he goes to----" "Spared!" De Beaurepaire exclaimed. "Spared, to go where? To imprisonment for life, doubtless. I will not have it so, not unless her life is spared too," and, as he spoke, he turned to where he knew Emérance was. As he did so a hoarse cry broke from his lips, and, all bound as he was, he struggled towards her. What he saw had struck a more icy chill to his heart than the approach of his now avoided death. Upon his knees was the monk, on one arm he supported the form of Emérance; with the hand that was free he held the Cross above her. "Emérance, Emérance. My love, my love," De Beaurepaire cried. "Emérance. Ah! speak to me." But the woman's lips did not move. They would never move again. "She is dead," the monk said, looking up. "She died but a moment ago. As the holy father mounted the steps." "Dead," De Beaurepaire wailed. "Dead! Gone--and I am here. Emérance is dead! Without me! Gone without one word to me. I will not believe it. It cannot be." "Not without one word," the monk replied. "As she died I heard her whisper 'Louis' once. A moment later she murmured 'Saved'. Be content, my son, she is at rest." THE END Humphrey and Jacquette heard the next day of all that had taken place outside the Bastille and learnt that De Beaurepaire was to be at once sent to the Ile Ste. Marguerite or the Château d'If, where he would remain a prisoner for the rest of his life. The prayers of his mother, aided by the words of the King's Confessor who, though only a humble priest, was much esteemed by Louis, had saved him from death at least. Of those who mourned De Beaurepaire's fate, and they were many, none did so more than these two who were now about to become man and wife. For, whatever the character of that unhappy man had been, however his vaulting ambition may have o'erleaped itself, it became the custom ere long to speak of him as one who had been more led into error than as the instigator of "the great crime." Indeed, it was not long ere the punishment, even still severe, of Louis de Beaurepaire was generally referred to as one of those _crimes de la cour_ which, in earlier days, had made victims of Enguerrand de Marigny and Beaune de Semblançay, of Jacques C[oe]ur and the unfortunate victim of Richelieu's hate, Cinq-Mars. And, as gradually matters became more and more unfolded, as Louis XIV. learnt how De Beaurepaire had been tempted by his enemy, Spain, he himself was known to express regret for him, and, sometimes, to even hint at eventually forgiving him.