Through his mind there flitted the vision of beautiful Marguerite, who had so much loved yet so deeply wronged him, and, looking at his friend, he thought that Deroulede too would soon learn all the contradictions, which wage a constant war in the innermost recesses of a feminine heart.
He made a movement as if he would say something more, something of grave import, then seemed to think better of it, and shrugged his broad shoulders, as if to say: "Let time and chance take their course now." When Deroulede looked up again Sir Percy was sitting placidly in the arm-chair, with an absolutely blank expression on his face.
"Now that you know how much I love her, my friend," said Deroulede as soon as he had mastered his emotions, "will you look after her when they have condemned me, and save her for my sake ?" A curious, enigmatic smile suddenly illumined Sir Percy's earnest countenance.
"Save her?
Do you attribute supernatural powers to me, then, or to The League of The Scarlet Pimpernel ?" "To you, I think," rejoined Deroulede seriously.
Once more it seemed as if Sir Percy were about to reveal something of great importance to his friend, then once more he checked himself.

The Scarlet Pimpernel was, above all, far-seeing and practical, a man of action and not of impulse.

The glowing eyes of his friend, his nervous, febrile movements, did not suggest that he was in a fit state to be entrusted with plans, the success of which hung on a mere thread.
Therefore Sir Percy only smiled, and said quietly: "Well, I'll do my best.".