Juliette's eyes fastened upon this case with a look of fascination and of horror.
Obviously it contained Deroulede's papers, the plans for Marie Antoinette's escape, the passports of which he had spoken the day before to his friend, Sir Percy Blakeney--the proofs, in fact, which she had offered to the representatives of the people, in support of her denunciation of the Citizen-Deputy.
After his request he had said nothing more.

He was waiting for her to speak; but her voice felt parched; it seemed to her as if hands of steel were gripping her throat, smothering the words she would have longed to speak.
"Will you not wish me godspeed, mademoiselle ?" he repeated gently.
"Godspeed ?" Oh! the awful irony of it all! Should God speed him to a mock trial and to the guillotine?
He was going thither, though he did not know it, and was even now trying to take the hand which had deliberately sent him there.
At last she made an effort to speak, and in a toneless, even voice she contrived to murmur: "You are not going for long, Citizen-Deputy ?" "In these times, mademoiselle," he replied, "any farewell might be for ever.

But I am actually going for a month to the Conciergerie, to take charge of the unfortunate prisoner there." "For a month!" she repeated mechanically.
"Oh yes!" he said, with a smile.

"You see, our present Government is afraid that poor Marie Antoinette will exercise her fascinations over any lieutenant-governor of her prison, if he remain near her long enough, so a new one is appointed every month.

I shall be in charge during this coming Vendemiaire.