Her face was smeared, much as his own was, a ragged wig concealed her hair, she was dressed, booted, sashed as a patriot, a pistol at her waist, a cockade in her hat, young-looking, yet little about her but her voice to proclaim her a woman.

“The odds are on our side, monsieur,” said Sabatier, and then he touched Seth on the shoulder.  “Come into the next room, there is wine there.  We may finish the bottle.  Love is wine enough for them.  We must start in half an hour, Monsieur Barrington.”

“Tell me, Jeanne, how did you come?” said Barrington, as the door closed leaving them alone.  “I thought they had cheated me.  Until I entered this room I hoped that my journey would lead me to you.  I hardly know why but I trusted Latour.  Then I was mad to think of my folly in believing, and now you are here.  Truly, a miracle has happened.”

“Oh, I have been so afraid, such a coward,” she said, drawing his arm round her.  “Raymond Latour came to me, straight from seeing you, I think, bringing this man Sabatier.  He told me that I should see you again, and that I was to do exactly as Sabatier said.  He had changed, Richard.  He was very gentle.  He asked me not to think unkindly of him.  He kissed my hand when he left me, and, Richard, he left a tear on it.”

“I think he loved you, Jeanne.”

“He said so; not then, but when he first came to me.  It was horrible to hear love spoken of by any man but you.  He threatened me, Richard.  I thought he meant what he said.”

“He did when he said it,” Barrington answered.  “He came to me, demanding that I should urge you to marry him.”

“And you refused?”

“Yes, and yet—­ah, Jeanne, I hardly know what I should have urged.  The thought of the guillotine for you made me afraid.”

“It would have been easier than marrying any other man,” she whispered.  “Something, perhaps something you said, Richard, changed Latour.  He evidently arranged my escape.  Sabatier came early yesterday with these clothes.  He told me to dress myself in them.  Think of it, Richard!  I walked through the streets with him like this, into a house in some alley, where we waited until it was dusk.  Then we rode to the barrier.  I was some horrible wretch thirsting for blood, young as I was; I do not know what Sabatier said, but even the men at the barrier shuddered at me and turned away.”

Barrington laughed and held her closer.

“Then we rode here.  We came by the Sceaux road, Sabatier said.  This lonely place made me afraid.  It was so unlikely you would find me here.  Then I wondered whether you were dead.  You have always seemed to come to me when I was in need, and this time—­oh, it seemed so long, so hopeless!  Now I want to cry and laugh both at once.”

“You have no fear of the journey before us?” Barrington whispered.

“Fear!  With you!”

“I mean just because it is with me.  Do you know what we are going to do?  We travel to the sea, to a ship, then to my home in Virginia.  Are you sure you do not fear the journey which means having me always with you?”