human power can separate us, and if I quitted you, I have only to cry 'Vive le roi!' and your prison gates will reopen, and we will come out no more except together. Death upon the same scaffold, that will be enough for me."
"Oh, no, no; leave me, in the name of Heaven, leave me!"
"Leave you! Take heed what you say, for if I quit this prison without having the right to defend you, I shall seek out your father—your father whom you have forgotten, and who weeps for you—and I shall say to him: Old man, she could have saved herself, but she has not done so; she has wished your last days to be passed in mourning, and her blood to be upon your white hair. Weep, old man, not because your daughter is dead, but because she did not love you well enough to live."
Marceau had repulsed her, and she had fallen on her knees beside him, and he, with his teeth clenched, strode to and fro with a bitter laugh; then he heard her sob, the tears leapt to his eyes, and he fell at her feet.
"Blanche, by all that is most sacred in the world, consent to become my wife!"
"You must, young girl," interrupted a strange voice, which made them tremble and rise together. "It is the only way to preserve your life. Religion commands you, and I am ready to bless your union." Marceau turned astonished, and recognised the curé of Sainte-Marie-de-Rhé, who had made part of the gathering which he had attacked on the night when Blanche became his prisoner.
"Oh, my father," he cried, seizing his hand, "obtain her consent!"
"Blanche de Beaulieu," replied the priest, with solemn accents, "in the name of your father, whom my age and friendship give me the right of representing, I command you to obey this young man."
Blanche seemed agitated with a thousand different emotions; at last she threw herself into Marceau's arms.
"I cannot resist any longer," she said. "Marceau, I love you, and I will be your wife."
Their lips joined; Marceau was at the height of joy; he seemed to have forgotten everything. The priest's voice broke in upon their ecstasy.
"We must be quick," he said, "for my moments are numbered."
The two lovers trembled; this voice recalled them to earth. Blanche glanced around the cell with apprehension.
"What a moment," she said, "to unite our destinies! Can you think a union consecrated under vaults so sombre and lugubrious can be fortunate and happy?"
Marceau shuddered, for he himself was touched with superstitious terror. He drew Blanche to that part of the cell where the daylight struggling through the crossed bars of a narrow air-hole rendered the shadows less thick, and there, falling on their knees, they awaited the priest's blessing. As he extended his arms above them and pronounced the sacred words, the clash of arms and the tread of soldiers was heard in the corridor.
"Blanche cast herself in terror into Marceau's arms."
Blanche cast herself in terror into Marceau's arms.
"Can they have come to seek me already?" she cried.
"Oh, my love, how frightful death is at this moment!" The young General threw himself before the door, a pistol in each hand. The astonished soldiers drew back.
