I returned home, and what I saw was bloodshed. It frightened me to no end, until I was prepared to sit in an empty red corner and cry until Madame Guillotine cut off my head with the rest of the innocents. I did cry. Every night I spent in that wretched cell, I wept for your return. They tell me I am vain actress, and I am. Vain, selfish, arrogant. But at that point in my life, I didn't care about myself anymore. I didn't, Percy! Not once did the thought of my escape even flicker through my mind. All I thought of, all I dreamed of was you, that you were safe. I prayed that you would survive and continue on, even if I was confined to headless death. France needed you – no one needed me. Chauvelin's frequent visits reminded me of my meaningless existence, and all the more I hoped you would survive, if only to shoot the wretched man's heart out. He mocked me, Percy, until I could no longer hold my tears. He spoke of you, your faithlessness, your pathetic defense of the worthless prisoners.
When I saw you, my heart soared to the endless limits of the sky, and I confessed all love, all devotion to the one man who had captured me so entirely, so lovingly. Do you remember? I felt safe for that one minute in your arms, one minute to the eternity of cold death I would face. I wasn't an actress anymore – there was no need to mask my emotion, no need to twist and manipulate words. I wasn't Lady Blakeney, the proud wife of a dull husband, the witty love of London. I was Marguerite St. Juste, the woman who was deeply, deeply in love with Sir Percy, the Scarlet Pimpernel, the man who saved my heart.
I cannot imagine life without you, just as I cannot imagine life without Armand. But you understand that he is my brother, and you are my soul. The guillotine did not seem foreboding, for in my heart I knew that I was safe. Whether in your arms or in heaven watching over you, all ends would be tied. I didn't care anymore, whether I would live or die. As long as you knew, as long as you lived…
But here we are, alive and still in love. I don't deserve you – no one does. But I cannot live without you. I would wither and fade in the last embers of your loving eyes, and I would be happy to see that glance one final time. I don't want to die alone. I don't want to live alone. You are my savior, Percy, and I love you far more than the swooning maidens love their Scarlet Pimpernel. But you are mine, mine alone, and I will never give my treasure for anything in the world – not even my own life.