"
"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 dessinated in red upon it.
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