"These vagabond people must face the General himself." Then came the insane self-sacrifice of his reckless downfall, but he had spared her to the very last.
He bowed his head in his hands, and a storm of agony swept over him as he recalled the word "traitor," branded upon his brow as a badge of shame, and again he wandered along that devious path which had led him year by year downward.

Too bitterly self-accusing to palliate his past, he only knew that in all the long years of social pariahhood he had learned to despise all men and to trust no woman! For had not Friendship been a lie to him, Love only a hollow cheat, and woman's vows of deathless loyalty but writ in sand to be washed out by the next wave of passion?
And yet, stained with crime, there was one breath of truth which swept over his soul as fresh as the voice of the "pines of Ramoth Hill!" His eyes were misty and his breath choked in a sorrowing gasp of manly remorse, as the winsome face of the true-hearted Justine rose up before him in this hour of lonely agony! Her devotion had touched the wayworn wanderer, and, pure and unselfish, her love had been the one bright star of all these darkened years! "By Jove! She is a royal soul! If I could only save her the shock of the awakening," he murmured.

His heart beat generously in a thrill of pride recalling Justine's steadfast devotion to the motherless girl whom he had sought to entangle.

"Far above rubies!" he cried, and the memory of the fond woman who was watching for him at Lausanne, swept over his stormy soul to bring unbidden tears to eyes which had never flinched before the red flash of the grim cannon.
"There are still good women in the world!" he muttered, "and, God bless you, you have taught me this, Justine!" Drawing her picture from his bosom, he gazed fondly at the face of the gentle-hearted daughter of the Alps.

A vain and passionate regret racked his bosom--the last struggle of his wavering soul! "Shall I turn back ?" he doubtfully cried.