"Faith, there's
naught to be ashamed of! He is a noble and true man, and one to be
proud of as a lover, and. . .as a husband."
"Indeed, CHERIE, I am not ashamed," rejoined Suzanne,
softly; "and it makes me very, very proud to hear you speak so well of
him. I think maman will consent," she added thoughtfully, "and I
shall be--oh! so happy--but, of course, nothing is to be thought of
until papa is safe. . . ."
Marguerite started. Suzanne's father! the Comte de Tournay!--one
of those whose life would be jeopardised if Chauvelin succeeded
in establishing the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel.
She had understood all along from the Comtesse, and also from
one or two of the members of the league, that their mysterious leader
had pledged his honour to bring the fugitive Comte de Tournay safely
out of France. Whilst little Suzanne--unconscious of all--save her
own all-important little secret, went prattling on. Marguerite's
thoughts went back to the events of the past night.
Armand's peril, Chauvelin's threat, his cruel "Either--or--"
which she had accepted.
And then her own work in the matter, which should have
culminated at one o'clock in Lord Grenville's dining-room, when the
relentless agent of the French Government would finally learn who was
this mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel, who so openly defied an army of
spies and placed himself so boldly, and for mere sport, on the side of
the enemies of France.
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