"I have not been able to save the monarchy in the person of the King or the Queen, but I may yet do it in the person of the Dauphin." "The Dauphin," murmured St.Just involuntarily.
That involuntary murmur, scarcely audible, so soft was it, seemed in some way to satisfy de Batz, for the keenness of his gaze relaxed, and his fat fingers ceased their nervous, intermittent tattoo on the ledge of the box.
"Yes! the Dauphin," he said, nodding his head as if in answer to his own thoughts, "or rather, let me say, the reigning King of France--Louis XVII, by the grace of God--the most precious life at present upon the whole of this earth." "You are right there, friend de Batz," assented Armand fervently, "the most precious life, as you say, and one that must be saved at all costs." "Yes," said de Batz calmly, "but not by your friend the Scarlet Pimpernel." "Why not ?" Scarce were those two little words out of St.Just's mouth than he repented of them.

He bit his lip, and with a dark frown upon his face he turned almost defiantly towards his friend.
But de Batz smiled with easy bonhomie.
"Ah, friend Armand," he said, "you were not cut out for diplomacy, nor yet for intrigue.

So then," he added more seriously, "that gallant hero, the Scarlet Pimpernel, has hopes of rescuing our young King from the clutches of Simon the cobbler and of the herd of hyenas on the watch for his attenuated little corpse, eh ?" "I did not say that," retorted St.Just sullenly.
"No.

But I say it.

Nay! nay! do not blame yourself, my over-loyal young friend.