"You have come in time, colonel, to do me a great service," he said.
"Now give me a weapon, and let me take part in any further fight."
Tournay gave him a pistol. St. Hilaire went to the side of Madame d'Arlincourt. The crowd began again to surge around the soldiers threateningly.
"Let the guillotine go on!" "Let the executioner finish his work!" were the cries from all sides.
"Citizens," yelled Sanson, who had risen to his feet and was now rubbing his bruised sides, "you are a thousand. They are only a few soldiers.
Take back the prisoners and I will execute them."
"Make ready--aim," was Colonel Tournay's quick command. The muskets clicked; the crowd fell back. "Fix bayonets, forward march." And through the press Colonel Tournay bore those whom he had saved from the guillotine.
No organized attempt was made to attack them, and the party proceeded to the Rue d'Arcis unmolested. Here Tournay turned to his captain.
"Dessarts, leave a file of men here and take the others back to their barracks for repose, but hold them subject to immediate orders."
"Very good, my colonel," and the soldiers were marched away.
Madame d'Arlincourt showed signs of succumbing to the effects of the terrible strain to which she had been subjected, and St. Hilaire, supporting her gently, hastened to the door of his former servant.
In another instant they were all inside.
They passed through the corridor and entered the wainscoted salon. As they did so the bookcase above moved gently. Edme entered through the secret door and stood for an instant surrounded by a frame of dusty books, looking down upon them.
In her plain gown of homespun, with her skin browned by exposure to the air, and cheeks which had the glow of health in them despite the hardship she had undergone, Edme de Rochefort was a different picture from that of the girl of five years before. Yet it was not the present Edme that suffered by comparison.
With a cry of joy she hastened down the stairs. "I have been told the glorious news," she cried. "Have you returned to tell me it is all true?
But you are wounded!" she exclaimed in the same breath, with a cry of alarm.
"'Tis nothing," Tournay replied, folding her in his arms. "I do not even feel it."
"Is all the danger over?" she asked anxiously, looking up in his face.
"Not all over," he answered caressingly. "The result hangs in the balance, but we shall win, we shall surely win. At present we have need of a little food and repose. St. Hilaire and myself must go out again shortly. Has Gaillard come with a message? I expected him from the convention," he continued, addressing Beaurepaire.
"He has not returned," was the answer.
Edme turned to assist Agatha in caring for Madame d'Arlincourt, while old Beaurepaire busied himself in setting forth some food upon the table.
At this moment Gaillard burst into the room, followed by Father Ambrose.
"I bring glorious news!" cried the actor excitedly. "Robespierre, at one time released by the aid of Henriot, has been rearrested. He has attempted suicide. Henriot, St. Just, Couthon, are also arrested. They will all be sent to the guillotine. The convention triumphs. The Commune is defeated. The Reign of Terror is at an end."
The news was received with a great shout of joy. "Listen," called out Gaillard, "and you will learn what the people think."
The booming of guns and the ringing of bells throughout the city verified his statement.
"We have won!" said Colonel Tournay.
"Let us celebrate the victory by this feast that Beaurepaire has provided!" exclaimed St. Hilaire.
Tournay drew Edme into the recess of one of the large windows. The sound of a whole city rejoicing at the abolition of the Reign of Terror filled the air. In the room at the back the voices of Gaillard and St. Hilaire were heard in joyful conversation.
For a moment they stood in silence. She looked into his eyes and read the question there.
[Illustration: A MOMENT THEY STOOD IN SILENCE]
"Yes," her eyes answered.
"In order to save your life," he said, "Father Ambrose once stated that you and I were man and wife. It was a subterfuge, and had no other meaning. We now stand before him once again; will you let him marry us now?"
"Yes, Robert."
With a look of pride and happiness upon his face Tournay faced about and addressed the company.
"There can be no more fitting time than this," he said, "to present to you my bride," and he looked proudly down at Edme who still had her arm through his.
"Father Ambrose," Tournay went on, "will you marry us now?"
The priest, who had evidently had a premonition of the event, was all prepared; and in the wainscoted salon, with the portraits of the old regime looking down upon them from the walls, Robert Tournay, a colonel of the Republic, and Edme de Rochefort, of the ancient Regime of France, were made man and wife.
"Let us drink a toast to them!" cried St. Hilaire as the happy party gathered about the table after the ceremony. "Long life and happiness to Colonel Robert Tournay and his bride!"
Beaurepaire filled their glasses with some rare old Burgundy, which he drew from some hidden stores in the cellar, and the toast was drunk with enthusiasm.
St. Hilaire's eyes met Madame d'Arlincourt's, and the look that was interchanged foretold their future.
Tournay stood in silence for a moment, and when he did speak there was a note in his voice which showed how deep was his emotion. "I will give you a toast. Let us drink to the new France; for after all," he continued, looking from one to the other, "we are all Frenchmen. The fate of France must be our fate. With her we must stand or fall. A new France has now risen from the ashes of the old. To her we turn with new hope."
"Long live the Republic!" cried Gaillard.
Tournay, St. Hilaire, and Gaillard touched glasses and looked into one another's eyes. They understood one another as brave men do.
"Nations may rise or they may crumble into dust," said Colonel Tournay, "but Justice and Liberty are eternal. They will live always in the hearts of men."
"And Love also," whispered Edme in his ear.
"Yes, truly, and Love also, sweetheart."