“Citizen, what has she done to you or to France?”
“Done? She has done nothing. She is. That is the crime of an aristocrat.”
I pleaded with him for the life of that woman whose gold and white beauty
was the fairest thing I had ever gazed upon and whose beautiful heart
looked out from eyes that showed all its goodness and truth. Citizen
Beauget had received many services at my hands in the days when I was
near the powers of the court because the favorite of the king had owed
his life to me.
“Eh!” he cried. “A citizen of France seeking to save the life of one of
the oppressors of France? Ah, I have it. If she will marry you, good
Pierre, her life is yours. Ha, the white and gold lily of the court marry
Pierre, the Sansculotte! Beautiful thought! Perhaps she will wish to save
her life.”
Then I stood up before him and looked at him with a scorn before which he
dropped his gaze.
“Citizen Beauget, Mademoiselle will marry where she loves or kiss the
cruel ‘Maiden of Liberty’ with pure lips and a brave heart.”
But I took the paper he gave me and went straight to the prison where she
stood, and even there space was bright because of her. She turned and
looked at me and the glow that comes once to a woman’s face was in hers
when her eyes fell on me.
“You have come to help me die,” she said reaching out her hand.