Rafael Sabatini

“ As she sat and thought her resolve grew strong and assumed a definite shape. Ere Lavoisie could be given time to strike her husband he must himself be laid low. In Paris he might be powerful, the beloved of the sans-culottes, the friend and confidant of Robespierre, the very arbiter of the Republic. But here in Marseilles was not her husband equally powerful, given that, forewarned, he should have the advantage of the first blow? Would not a word from him arouse the rabble—that greatest power in terror-ridden France—His Majesty King Mob.
She had known Paul in the old days for an aristocrat ”

“ Her husband, the father of her child, was doomed if this man had his way. Had he not shown her how a word from him could destroy Duroc? It was true that she did not love her husband, but Habit often sits so closely in the place that should be Love's that the one may be confounded with the other. So was it now with her. She remembered only that Duroc was the father of her boy. She confessed to herself that perhaps she did not love him, but neither did she any longer love Lavoisie. ”

“ Do you know who I am?"
"Perfectly," answered the other, with grim facetiousness. "You are the ci-devant Chevalier Paul de Lavoisie, and I arrest you as an aristocrat, an enemy of the Convention, and a danger to the public safety." He made a sign, and the soldiers to place themselves on either side of Paul advanced before he could recover from his astonishment. "We have eyes in Marseilles, my aristocrat," said Duroc, with an unpleasant laugh.
"You have fools, too, it seems," returned the deputy with an answering laugh no less unpleasant. ”

“ For this, within a little week, the Citoyen Prefect, Cassius Duroc, shall mount the steps of the patriotic guillotine. And then, Berthe——," he cried, opening wide his arms, and smiling down upon her. But she drew away from him with a cry of horror.
"No, no!"
He stood still. His arms fell heavily to his sides, and his face grew hard.
"I understand. You have lied to me. This story of the fear of death was a fabrication to——"
"It was true, Paul. I swear it as Heaven is my witness."
"Heaven!" he sneered. "There is no Heaven. ”

“ They mostly began "Mon bien aimé"; they mostly ended "Whilst I live I am thine—Berthe." They were mostly undated—for what does love reck of time or days?
"Whilst I live I am thine," he read aloud. Then with a hard, sudden laugh he rose, gathered the papers together and tied them into a bundle, which he contemptuously flung into the valise lying open on the floor. ”

“ Leave Marseilles. Forget me, Paul. I am only a poor, cowardly thing."
He flung her hands from him, and turning, he crossed again to the window.
"What need to fool me? Why could you not in honesty have said that you had changed your fickle mind?—that this provincial Prefect, this kennel-bred canaille. pleased you better than the unfortunate Paul de Lavoisie? Is it ever a woman's way to act a part—to live a lie?" ”