Andre-Louis, turning to scan that muffled figure, advanced from the dark depths of the salon.  As the light beat on his white, lean face the pseudo-footman started.  The next moment he too stepped forward into the light, and swept his broad-brimmed hat from his brow.  As he did so Andre-Louis observed that his hand was fine and white and that a jewel flashed from one of the fingers.  Then he caught his breath, and stiffened in every line as he recognized the face revealed to him.

“Monsieur,” that stern, proud man was saying, “I cannot take advantage of your ignorance.  If these ladies can persuade you to save me, at least it is due to you that you shall know whom you are saving.”

He stood there by the table very erect and dignified, ready to perish as he had lived — if perish he must — without fear and without deception.

Andre-Louis came slowly forward until he reached the table on the other side, and then at last the muscles of his set face relaxed, and he laughed.

“You laugh?” said M. de La Tour d’Azyr, frowning, offended.

“It is so damnably amusing,” said Andre-Louis.

“You’ve an odd sense of humour, M. Moreau.”

“Oh, admitted.  The unexpected always moves me so.  I have found you many things in the course of our acquaintance.  To-night you are the one thing I never expected to find you:  an honest man.”

M. de La Tour d’Azyr quivered.  But he attempted no reply.

“Because of that, monsieur, I am disposed to be clement.  It is probably a foolishness.  But you have surprised me into it.  I give you three minutes, monsieur, in which to leave this house, and to take your own measures for your safety.  What afterwards happens to you shall be no concern of mine.”

“Ah, no, Andre!  Listen... " Madame began in anguish.

“Pardon, madame.  It is the utmost that I will do, and already I am violating what I conceive to be my duty.  If M. de La Tour d’Azyr remains he not only ruins himself, but he imperils you.  For unless he departs at once, he goes with me to the headquarters of the section, and the section will have his head on a pike inside the hour.  He is a notorious counter-revolutionary, a knight of the dagger, one of those whom an exasperated populace is determined to exterminate.  Now, monsieur, you know what awaits you.  Resolve yourself and at once, for these ladies’ sake.”

“But you don’t know, Andre-Louis!” Mme. de Plougastel’s condition was one of anguish indescribable.  She came to him and clutched his arm.  “For the love of Heaven, Andre-Louis, be merciful with him!  You must!”

“But that is what I am being, madame — merciful; more merciful than he deserves.  And he knows it.  Fate has meddled most oddly in our concerns to bring us together to-night.  Almost it is as if Fate were forcing retribution at last upon him.  Yet, for your sakes, I take no advantage of it, provided that he does at once as I have desired him.”