If death awaits me, it will be sweet; for it will come, tonight, in the supreme service of the human race! Good-bye!" With a sudden motion, the girl took his face between her hands, and kissed his forehead.

For all her courage and strength, he sensed her heart wildly beating and he felt her tears.
"Good-bye, Gabriel," she breathed.

"Would I might go with you! Would that my duty did not hold me here! Good-bye!" Then he was gone, gone with the others, into the thickening obscurity of the fog-shrouded evening.

Now Catherine stood there alone, head bowed and wet face hidden in both hands.
As the little fighting band disappeared, back to the girl drifted a few words of song, soft-hummed through the dusk--the deathless chorus of the International: "Now comes the hour supreme! To arms, each in his place! The new dawn's International Shall be the human race!...".