her throne.

"One day a woman, radiant in youth, and reflecting Valerie's own
beauty, was brought to the chateau by Troubetskoi, who had journeyed
on to Vienna. It was Alixe Delavigne, the woman whom I saw last with
you. A month later Valerie called me to her side: 'My poor Casimir,'
she said, as I knelt at her feet, 'I am dying! The struggle will
not be a long one. I know the secret of your boyish heart. Your
eyes have spoken and your music has reached my heart. Your love is
written in your songs without words. When you have forgotten me,
there is Alixe; she is alone upon earth. Let me seal your heart to
hers, and even in death I shall feel that I love you both.' Then,"
the artist sobbed, "I lost my head. I told her all in mad, burning
words. She raised her eyes to mine, and softly said: 'I shall see
you no more unless Alixe is with us, for I love Pierre and he loves
me. When I am gone, Alixe will be the only one who knows the secret
of my life.'

"It was two months later--for I would not leave her side, even Pierre
Troubetskoi could not see her passing away, for it was a mysterious
malady--when a sudden alarm brought me to my senses. My secret
society work was done, and yet I lingered there, at the very steps
of the scaffold. Alixe Delavigne burst into my room at midnight.

"'Hasten!' she cried. 'Even now the Cossacks are surrounding the
house!' She let me out through the secret passage of the old Chateau.
A cloak was thrown over me by the Intendant. He was a Pole--and one
true to the old blood. Alixe pressed a purse upon me. An address
in Paris was whispered. 'I will write! Go! For Valerie's sake, go!'