r, but bit his lip deeply, while the other
continued, "It is no fault of mine, M. Raoul Beauchamp, that you gain
admittance to the Palace. But for the Queen's orders I would gladly
send you back to your friends who make war so bravely--on a woman and a
boy."

"Your speech is a trifle unjust, M. Belloc," said Raoul; "I am a
soldier, and cannot question the commands of my chief. As to my own
feelings--well that is another matter," and with a studied bow he
passed into the building.

Meanwhile the mob was increasing in numbers and violence every moment,
and, as the soldiers had received orders not to fire, the courtyard was
soon filled with excited people who howled, and danced, and shouted for
the King to be produced. Two or three times I glanced anxiously at
Belloc, wondering how much longer his patience would last.

"Open the doors," cried the foremost rioters; "we will enter and see
for ourselves where the King is."

"The King is in bed!" cried M. Belloc angrily.

"Ah! at St. Germain!" shouted a fellow dressed like a street hawker,
but whose voice I recognised, "We are betrayed!"

It was very stupid to interfere, but I could not resist the chance.

"Ha! ha! friend Peleton, then for once you are on the wrong side!" I
laughed. "Generally it is you who do the betraying."

The fellow rushed at me savagely, but the young Englishman drove him
back, saying, "Down, dog! Keep with your kind! You are not wanted
with honest men."

"Peace!" cried M. Belloc angrily, for he saw, what I did not, that the
crowd was gradually working itself into a fit of passion.

Fortunately, just then the door was opened, and Raoul, coming outside,
was immediately recognised as the messenger of the Duke of Orleans.

"The King!" they yelled; "Where is he?" "Have you seen him?" "Speak
or we will pull the place down."

Raoul stood on the topmost step, and raised his hand for silence. His
face was pale, but he looked very handsome, and was evidently not in
the least afraid.

"You have been deceived," he said. "The King is within the Palace. I
have seen him; he is sound asleep. Go away quietly, or you will waken
him."

They would probably have taken his advice but for Peleton, who cried
lustily, "We are betrayed! How can we tell what is true, unless we see
for ourselves."

"Yes, yes," shouted the mob; "that is the best way; we will see the
King with our own eyes!"

Again Raoul raised his hand and spoke, telling them the K