Ninety-nine women out of a hundred would think like Lydia Maitland of hastening to the adversary of the man they love, to demand, to beg for his life.

Let us add, however, that the majority would not carry out that thought.

They would confine themselves to sewing in the vest of their beloved some blessed medal, in recommending him to the Providence, which, for them, is still the favoritism of heaven.

Lydia felt that if ever Florent should learn of her step with regard to Gorka, he would be very indignant.

But who would tell him?
She was agitated by one of those fevers of fear and of remorse which are too acute not to act, cost what it might.