“No time shall be lost,” answers, Trudaine, firmly.  “Three years have passed,” he continued, in a lower voice, speaking to himself rather than to Lomaque; “three years since the day when I led my sister out of the gates of the prison—­three years since I said in my heart, ’I will be patient, and will not seek to avenge myself.  Our wrongs cry from earth to heaven; from man who inflicts to God who redresses.  When the day of reckoning comes, let it be the day of his vengeance, not of mine.’  In my heart I said those words—­I have been true to them—­I have waited.  The day has come, and the duty it demands of me shall be fulfilled.”

There was a moment’s silence before Lomaque spoke again.  “Your sister?” he began, hesitatingly.

“It is there only that my purpose falters,” said the other, earnestly.  “If it were but possible to spare her all knowledge of this last trial, and to leave the accomplishment of the terrible task to me alone?”

“I think it is possible,” interposed Lomaque.  “Listen to what I advise.  We must depart for Paris by the diligence to-morrow morning, and we must take your sister with us—­to-morrow will be time enough; people don’t sign marriage-contracts on the evening after a long day’s journey.  We must go then, and we must take your sister.  Leave the care of her in Paris, and the responsibility of keeping her in ignorance of what you are doing, to me.  Go to this General Berthelin’s house at a time when you know Danville is there (we can get that knowledge through the servants); confront him without a moment’s previous warning; confront him as a man risen from the dead; confront him before every soul in the room though the room should be full of people—­and leave the rest to the self-betrayal of a panic-stricken man.  Say but three words, and your duty will be done; you may return to your sister, and may depart with her in safety to your old retreat at Rouen, or where else you please, on the very day when you have put it out of her infamous husband’s power to add another to the list of his crimes.”

“You forget the suddenness of the journey to Paris,” said Trudaine.  “How are we to account for it without the risk of awakening my sister’s suspicions?”

“Trust that to me,” answered Lomaque.  “Let us return to the cottage at once.  No, not you,” he added, suddenly, as they turned to retrace their steps.  “There is that in your face which would betray us.  Leave me to go back alone—­I will say that you have gone to give some orders at the inn.  Let us separate immediately.  You will recover your self-possession—­you will get to look yourself again sooner—­if you are left alone.  I know enough of you to know that.  We will not waste another minute in explanations; even minutes are precious to us on such a day as this.  By the time you are fit to meet your sister again, I shall have had time to say all I wish to her, and shall be waiting at the cottage to tell you the result.”