“To God Almighty only I bow down, Lysbet, and as for titles what care of them has Jons Van Heemskirk?  Think you, when God calls me He will say ‘Councillor’ or ‘Senator’?  No, He will say ‘Jons Van Heemskirk!’ and I shall answer to that name.  But you know well, Lysbet, this bloody trial of liberty in Paris touches all the world beside.”

“Forgive me, Joris!  A shame it is to be cross with thee, nor am I cross even with that poor Arenta.  A child, a very child she is.”

“But bitter fears and suffering she has come through.  Her husband was guillotined last May, and from her home she was taken—­no time to write to a friend—­no time to save anything she had, except a string of pearls, which round her waist for many weeks, she had worn.  From prison to prison she was sent, until at last she was ordered before the Revolutionary Tribunal.  From that tribunal to the guillotine is only a step, and she would surely have taken it but for—­”

“Minister Morris?”

“No.  Twenty miles outside the city, Minister Morris now lives; and no time was there to send him word of her strait.  Hungry and sick upon the floor of her prison she was sitting, when her name was called, for bead after bead of her pearl necklace had gone to her jailor, only for a little black bread and a cup of milk twice a day; and this morning for twenty-four hours she had been without food or milk.”

[Illustration:  “Arenta before the revolutionary tribunal”]

“The poor little one!  What did she do?”

“This is what she did, and blame her I will not.  When in that terrible iron armchair before those bloody judges, she says she forgot then to be afraid.  She looked at Fouquier-Tinville the public prosecutor, and at the fifteen jurymen, and flinched not.  She had no dress to help her beauty, but she declares she never felt more beautiful, and well I can believe it.  They asked her name, and my Lysbet, think of this child’s answer!  ‘I am called Arenta Jefferson de Tounnerre,’ she said; and at the name of ‘Jefferson’ there were exclamations, and one of the jurymen rose to his feet and asked excitedly, ’What is it you mean?  Jefferson!  The great Jefferson!  The great Thomas Jefferson!  The great American who loves France and Liberty?’ ‘It is the same,’ she answered, and then she sat silent, asking no favour, so wise was she, and Fouquier-Tinville looked at the President and said—­’among my friends I count this great American!’ and a juryman added, ’when I was very poor and hungry he fed and helped me,’ and he bowed to Arenta as he spoke.  And after that Fouquier-Tinville asked who would certify to her claim, and she answered boldly, ‘Minister Morris.’  When questioned further she answered, ’I adore Liberty, I believe in France, I married a Frenchman, for Thomas Jefferson told me I was coming to a great nation and might trust both its government and its generosity.’  They asked her then if she had been used kindly in