you must have a leader. And I did not think of that before! But tell me
where is he? I must go to him at once, and I and my children must throw
ourselves at his feet, and thank him for all that he has done for us."

"Alas, Madame!" said Lord Antony, "that is impossible."

"Impossible?--Why?"

"Because the Scarlet Pimpernel works in the dark, and his identity is
only known under the solemn oath of secrecy to his immediate followers."

"The Scarlet Pimpernel?" said Suzanne, with a merry laugh. "Why! what a
droll name! What is the Scarlet Pimpernel, Monsieur?"

She looked at Sir Andrew with eager curiosity. The young man's face
had become almost transfigured. His eyes shone with enthusiasm;
hero-worship, love, admiration for his leader seemed literally to glow
upon his face. "The Scarlet Pimpernel, Mademoiselle," he said at last
"is the name of a humble English wayside flower; but it is also the
name chosen to hide the identity of the best and bravest man in all the
world, so that he may better succeed in accomplishing the noble task he
has set himself to do."

"Ah, yes," here interposed the young Vicomte, "I have heard speak of
this Scarlet Pimpernel. A little flower--red?--yes! They say in
Paris that every time a royalist escapes to England that devil,
Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor, receives a paper with that
little flower designated in red upon it. . . . Yes?"

"Yes, that is so," assented Lord Antony.