BLANCHE DE BEAULIEU. 255 
pects and has a right to be obeyed, he demanded an audience, but, 
to his dismay, was refused admittance ; and neither entreaties nor 
threats could procure him an interview. What was now to be 
done? There was not an instant to lose; for in those times of hor- 
ror it was no uncommon occurrence for the unhappy victim to be 
arrested, condemned, and executed, in the short space of twenty-four 
hours. Marceau reflected an instant, then, giving his horse in 
charge of a soldier who stood near, he bent his steps towards the 
prison where Blanche was confined. The name and rank of the 
young General were sufficient tc obtain him an immediate entrance 
there, and he commanded the gaoler to conduct him instantly to her 
dungeon. The man hesitated; but Marceau repeated his order in 
a more peremptory tone, and, no longer daring to refuse, he made 
him a sign to follow, and led the way. 
“She is not alone,” said he, as he threw open the low arched 
door of the dark cell, “ but she will soon be rid of her companion, 
for he is to be guillotined to-day.” Then enjoining him to shorten 
his interview as much as possible, he closed the door on Marceau, 
leaving him in nearly total darkness. Unable to distinguish any 
object, he groped along the wall, endeavouring to utter the name 
of Blanche, yet unable to articulate a word; but she, more accus- 
tomed to the obscurity, recognized him immediately, and with a 
joyful cry sprang forward. In an instant she flew into his arms, 
forgetting in her terror every thing but the delight of seeing him 
again. She clung convulsively to him, murmuring, almost inarti- 
culately, “‘ You have not, then, abandoned me! Among the crowd 
which followed me here, I perceived ‘iinguy, and cried out Mar- 
ceau! He disappeared. I had no hope that he would find you— 
that I should see you again: but you are here, you are here! and 
you will not leave me in this frightful place. You will carry me 
hence, will you not?” ‘I would do so this instant, even at the 
price of my own life ; but—.” “Oh, Marceau! look at these 
dripping walls, this noisome dungeon floor. You, who are a gene- 
ral, cannot you—?” “Listen to me, Blanche. This I could do: 
knock at the door of your cell—blow out the brains of the man who 
would open it—carry you into the court—restore you for a few mi- 
nutes to the fresh air and the light of heaven—and then die in your 
defence. But were I dead they would drag you back to your cell ; 
and there exists not in the world another man who can save you.” 
“And can you, Marceau?” “TI will try, Blanche. But in your 
turn answer me a question ; one on which your life and my own 
depends. Answer me, then, as you would before your God— 
