to send deputy Fabrice to the guillotine. He threatens to place all
those papers before the Committee of Public Safety unless... unless
I...."

She paused, and a deep blush, partly of shame, partly of wrath, suffused
her pale cheeks.

"Unless you accept his grimy hand in marriage," concluded the man dryly.

Her eyes gave him answer. With pathetic insistence she tried now to
glean a ray of hope from the old scarecrow's inscrutable face. But he
was bending over his writing: his fingers were blue with cold, his great
shoulders were stooping to his task.

"Citizen," she pleaded.

"Hush!" he muttered, "no more now. The very snowflakes are made up of
whispers that may reach those bloodhounds yet. The English milor' shall
know of this. He will send you a message if he thinks fit."

"Citizen--"

"Not another word, in God's name! Pay me five sous for this letter and
pray Heaven that you have not been watched."

She shivered and drew her shawl closer round her shoulders, then she
counted out five sous with elaborate care and laid them out upon the
table. The old man took up the coins. He blew into his fingers, which
looked paralysed with the cold. The snow lay over everything now; the
rough awning had not protected him or his wares.