"'Virginie!' at last he uttered. In an instant I understood it all, and
remembered that, if Urian had lived, he too might have been in love.

"'Your uncle's daughter?' I inquired.

"'My cousin,' he replied.

"I did not say, 'your betrothed,' but I had no doubt of it. I was
mistaken, however.

"'O madame!' he continued, 'her mother died long ago--her father now--and
she is in daily fear,--alone, deserted--'

"'Is she in the Abbaye?' asked I.

"'No! she is in hiding with the widow of her father's old concierge. Any
day they may search the house for aristocrats. They are seeking them
everywhere. Then, not her life alone, but that of the old woman, her
hostess, is sacrificed. The old woman knows this, and trembles with
fear. Even if she is brave enough to be faithful, her fears would betray
her, should the house be searched. Yet, there is no one to help Virginie
to escape. She is alone in Paris.'

"I saw what was in his mind. He was fretting and chafing to go to his
cousin's assistance; but the thought of his mother restrained him. I
would not have kept back Urian from such on errand at such a time. How
should I restrain him? And yet, perhaps, I did wrong in not urging the
chances of danger more. Still, if it was danger to him, was it not the
same or even greater danger to her?--for the French spared neither age
nor sex in those wicked days of terror. So I rather fell in with his