The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. Monsieur Charvill, he is also my cousin. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. \" \"It's okay. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. "I'm sorry," she said.
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