"Down with the traitors! Down with the Russian spies! Down with Metzger!"Above the roaring of the north wind rose the clamour of voices, the cries of hate anddisgust, the deep groaning sobs of fierce and militant anger. The man and the womanexchanged quick glances."They are coming nearer," he said.She drew aside the heavy curtain, and stood there, looking out into the night."It is so," she answered. "They are pouring into the square."He rose and stood beneath the great carved mantelpiece. Over his head, hewn out of thesolid oak, black with age and coloured with that deep richness which is to-day as a lost art, were blazoned the arms of one of Europe's noblest families. He, Nicholas of Reist, its solemale representative, stood deep in thought, his dark young face furrowed with anxiety. Themoment was critical. It was one of a lifetime.She dropped the curtain and came over to his side. The flush of excitement was in hercheeks. Her eyes were like shining stars. Of their close relationship there could be nomanner of doubt. The same oval face and finely-cut features, the same pride of race, thesame firm, graceful bearing. Only there were lines upon his face-the lines of thought andcare; whilst hers remained as smooth as damask, typically and wonderfully beautiful