A soldier threw open the door, and holding it, announced: "The Citizen-deputy La Boulaye, Commissioner of the National Convention to the army of General Dumouriez." "This," mocked Ombreval, to whom the name meant nothing, "is the representative of a Government of strict equality, and he is announced with as much pomp as was ever an ambassador of his murdered Majesty's." Then a something out of the common in the attitude of his companions arrested his attention.

Mademoiselle was staring with eyes full of the most ineffable amazement, her lips parted, and her cheeks whiter than the sleepless night had painted them.

The Marquis was scowling in a surprise that seemed no whit less than his daughter's, his head thrust forward, and his jaw fallen.

The Vicomte, too, though in a milder degree, offered a countenance that was eloquent with bewilderment.

From this silent group Ombreval turned his tired eyes to the door and took stock of the two men that had entered.