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“You shall go if we have to use force to take you away;” and she moved away and laid her finger on the bell.

“You will not do that, mademoiselle.”

“Why not?” she cried, turning round.

“Because the man who seeks to lay hands on me will touch nothing else in this life.”

For a minute she stood silent in distracted hesitation.

The silence was broken by the sound of the carriage wheels.

“We will see,” she cried, and pressed the bell.

“As you please;” and I rose and stepped back against the wall and drew my revolver.

At the sight of it she closed her eyes and threw up her hands with a cry of fear and anguish, and then clasped her hands to her head.

The servant came in then.

“Is the carriage there, Peter?”

“Yes, mademoiselle.”

“Very well.”

He went and closed the door.

“Your Majesty, I beg you for the love of God to go and save your life. Ah, do, do!” she cried distractedly.

“I am not the Emperor, mademoiselle; and without the papers I cannot and will not go.”

She came nearer to me.

“I beg and entreat of you. If you are caught here, think what will happen to me.”