‘Nay,’ he said, ‘there is my place,’ pointing to where Madame Dupin sat.  I felt disposed for a moment to indulge in a pleasantry, to say that I approved his taste; but on second thoughts I forebore.  He went tottering slowly across the broken ground, hardly able to drag himself along.  ’Has he had any refreshment?’ I asked of one of the women who were about.  They told me yes, and this restored my composure; for after all I had not meant to annoy him, I had forgotten he was there—­a trivial fault in circumstances so exciting.  I was more easy in my mind, however, I confess it, when I saw that he had reached his chosen position safely.  The man looked so weak.  It seemed to me that he might have died on the road.

I thought I could almost perceive the gate, with Madame Dupin seated under the battlements, her charming figure relieved against the gloom, and that poor Lecamus lying, with his papers fluttering at her feet.  This was the last thing I was conscious of.

EXTRACT FROM THE NARRATIVE OF MADAME DUPIN DE LA CLAIRIERE (nee DE CHAMPFLEURIE).

I went with my husband to the city gate.  I did not wish to distract his mind from what he had undertaken, therefore I took care he should not see me; but to follow close, giving the sympathy of your whole heart, must not that be a support?  If I am asked whether I was content to let him go, I cannot answer yes; but had another than Martin been chosen, I could not have borne it.  What I desired, was to go myself.  I was not afraid:  and if it had proved dangerous, if I had been broken and crushed to pieces between the seen and the unseen, one could not have had a more beautiful fate.  It would have made me happy to go.  But perhaps it was better that the messenger should not be a woman; they might have said it was delusion, an attack of the nerves.  We are not trusted in these respects, though I find it hard to tell why.

But I went with Martin to the gate.  To go as far as was possible, to be as near as possible, that was something.  If there had been room for me to pass, I should have gone, and with such gladness! for God He knows that to help to thrust my husband into danger, and not to share it, was terrible to me.  But no; the invisible line was still drawn, beyond which I could not stir.  The door opened before him, and closed upon me.  But though to see him disappear into the gloom was anguish, yet to know that he was the man by whom the city should be saved was sweet.  I sat down on the spot where my steps were stayed.  It was close to the wall, where there is a ledge of stonework round the basement of the tower.  There I sat down to wait till he should come again.