France was becoming sick of unmitigated carnage, and even the executioners sometimes indulged in pity by way of a change.
As Monsieur the Viscount approached the two they turned round, and he saw her face--a very fair and very resolute one, with ashen hair and large eyes.

In common with almost all the faces in that room, it was blanched with suffering; and, it is fair to say, in common with many of them, it was pervaded by a lofty calm.

Monsieur the Viscount never for an instant doubted his own conviction; he drew near and said in a low voice, "Mademoiselle de St.Claire!" The Baron looked first fierce, and then alarmed.

His daughter's face illumined; she turned her large eyes on the speaker, and said simply, "Monsieur le Vicomte ?" The Baron apologized, commiserated, and sat down on a seat near, with a look of fretful despair; and his daughter and Monsieur the Viscount were left standing together.

Monsieur the Viscount desired to say a great deal, and could say very little.