I left the crowd of raging demons and ran across the courtyard where the fountain yet tinkled merrily down into the basin. No dark-eyed page loitered there and sang of the red rose and his lady’s face to the music of the falling water. I dashed past the fountain and ran into the great hall. It was empty and there was the print of muddy feet trampled over the marble floor. I went to the Leader of the People. “Where is Mademoiselle Denise?” His wicked eyes flashed vindictively. “Ah, Pierre, if you owe a grudge to the aristocracy of France you can feed to it now the most luxurious viands of earth. Even she is offered to the vengeance of justice and her head will grace a pike as none other has ever done.” I threw myself down before him. “Citizen, what has she done to you or to France?” “Done? She has done nothing. She is. That is the crime of an aristocrat.” I pleaded with him for the life of that woman whose gold and white beauty was the fairest thing I had ever gazed upon and whose beautiful heart looked out from eyes that showed all its goodness and truth. Citizen Beauget had received many services at my hands in the days when I was near the powers of the court because the favorite of the king had owed his life to me. “Eh!” he cried. “A citizen of France seeking to save the life of one of the oppressors of France? Ah, I have it. If she will marry you, good Pierre, her life is yours. Ha, the white and gold lily of the court marry Pierre, the Sansculotte! Beautiful thought! Perhaps she will wish to save her life.” Then I stood up before him and looked at him with a scorn before which he dropped his gaze. “Citizen Beauget, Mademoiselle will marry where she loves or kiss the cruel ‘Maiden of Liberty’ with pure lips and a brave heart.” But I took the paper he gave me and went straight to the prison where she stood, and even there space was bright because of her. She turned and looked at me and the glow that comes once to a woman’s face was in hers when her eyes fell on me. “You have come to help me die,” she said reaching out her hand. I took the hand and fell upon my knees and pressed it to my lips. “Nay, not so, Mademoiselle. I come to bid you live, if I read truly what is written on your face.” Hand in hand we went out into the night and neither the terror of the living nor the faces of the dead staring up into the moon-lit sky marred the peace that filled our hearts. _The New Party_ _What Shall It Be Named?_ BY CHARLES Q. DE FRANCE _Secretary People’s Party National Committee_ There are phenomena a-plenty, said the _New York World_ editorially (December 31), “which unmistakably foretell a new party and a new issue in American affairs. It comes in a multitude of shapes and clothed in a multitude of garments.”