"And yet you are my wife, Amelie; a priest has blessed our union."
"But they say that marriage before a priest is null before the law."
"Is it not enough for you, the wife of a proscribed man?" asked Morgan, his voice trembling as he spoke.
Amelie flung herself into his arms.
"But my mother," said she; "our marriage did not have her presence and blessing."
"Because there were too many risks to run, and we wished to run them alone."
"But that man--Did you notice that my brother says he _wills_ it?"
"Oh, if you loved me, Amelie, that man would see that he may change the face of the State, carry war from one end of the world to the other, make laws, build a throne, but that he cannot force lips to say yes when the heart says no."
"If I loved you!" said Amelie, in a tone of soft reproach. "It is midnight, you are here in my room, I weep in your arms--I, the daughter of General de Montrevel and the sister of Roland--and you say, 'If you loved me.'"
"I was wrong, I was wrong, my darling Amelie. Yes, I know that you were brought up in adoration of that man; you cannot understand that any one should resist him, and whoever does resist him is a rebel in your eyes."
"Charles, you said there were three things that we could do. What is the second?"
"Accept apparently the marriage they propose to you, and gain time, by delaying under various pretexts. The man is not immortal."
"No; but is too young for us to count on his death. The third way, dear friend?"
"Fly--but that is a last resource, Amelie; there are two objections: first, your repugnance."
"I am yours, Charles; I will surmount my repugnance."
"And," added the young man, "my engagements."
"Your engagements?"
"My companions are bound to me, Amelie; but I, too, am bound to them. We also have a man to whom we have sworn obedience. That man is the future king of France. If you accept your brother's devotion to Bonaparte, accept ours to Louis XVIII."
Amelie let her face drop into her hands with a sigh.
"Then," said she, "we are lost."
"Why so? On various pretexts, your health above all, you can gain a year. Before the year is out Bonaparte will probably be forced to begin another war in Italy. A single defeat will destroy his prestige; in short, a great many things can happen in a year."
"Did you read Roland's postscript, Charles?"
"Yes; but I didn't see anything in it that was not in your mother's letter."
"Read the last sentence again." And Amelie placed the letter before him.
He read:
I am leaving Paris for a few days; though you may not see me, you will hear of me.
"Well?"
"Do you know what that means?"
"No."
"It means that Roland is in pursuit of you."
"What does that matter? He cannot die by the hand of any of us."
"But you, unhappy man, you can die by his!"
"Do you think I should care so very much if he killed me, Amelie?"
"Oh! even in my gloomiest moments I never thought of that."
"So you think your brother is on the hunt for us?"
"I am sure of it."
"What makes you so certain?"
"Because he swore over Sir John's body, when he thought him dead, to avenge him."
"If he had died," exclaimed the young man, bitterly, "we should not be where we are, Amelie."
"God saved him, Charles; it was therefore good that he did not die."
"For us?"
"I cannot fathom the ways of the Lord. I tell you, my beloved Charles, beware of Roland; Roland is close by."
Charles smiled incredulously.
"I tell you that he is not only near here, but he has been seen."
"He has been seen! Where? Who saw him?"
"Who saw him?"
"Yes."
"Charlotte, my maid, the jailer's daughter. She asked permission to visit her parents yesterday, Sunday; you were coming, so I told her she could stay till this morning."
"Well?"
"She therefore spent the night with her parents. At eleven o'clock the captain of the gendarmerie brought in some prisoners. While they were locking them up, a man, wrapped in a cloak, came in and asked for the captain. Charlotte thought she recognized the new-comer's voice. She looked at him attentively; his cloak slipped from his face, and she saw that it was my brother."