he marquise; it struck them at once that it
was strange for two young workmen to be purchasing female attire,
but, after some consultation, they decided upon a bonnet and long
cloak, and these Victor went in and bought, gaily telling the
shopkeeper that he was buying a birthday present for his old mother.

They took the clothes up to Harry's room, agreeing that Louise could
easily buy the rest of the garments required for the marquise as
soon as she was free, but they decided to say nothing about the
attempt that was about to be made until it was over, as it would
cause an anxiety which the old woman would probably be unable to
conceal from the girls.

Victor did not accompany Harry to his room; they had never, indeed,
visited each other in their apartments, meeting always some little
distance away in order that their connection should be unobserved,
and that, should one be arrested, no suspicion would follow the
other. As soon as he had deposited the clothes Harry sallied out
again, and on rejoining Victor they made their way down to the
Hotel de Ville, being too anxious to remain quiet. They could learn
nothing from the crowd which was, as usual, assembled before the
Hotel.

There was a general impression that something was about to happen,
but none could give any definite reason for their belief. All day
they wandered about restless and anxious. They fought their way
into the galleries of the Assembly when the doors opened, but for
a time nothing new took place.

The Assembly, in which the moderates had still a powerful voice,
had protested against the assumption of authority by the council of
the Commune sitting at the Hotel de Ville. But the Assembly lacked
firmness, the Commune every day gained in power. Already warrants
of arrest were prepared against the Girondists, the early leaders
of the movement.

Too restless to remain in the Assembly, Victor and Harry again
took their steps to the Hotel de Ville. Just as they arrived there
twenty-four persons, of whom twenty-two were priests, were brought
out from the prison of the Maine by a party of Marseillais, who
shouted, "To the Abbaye!" These ruffians pushed the prisoners into coaches
standing at the door, shouting: "You will not arrive at the prison;
the people are waiting to tear you in pieces." But the people looked
on silently in sullen apathy.

"You see them," the Marseillais shouted. "There they are. You are
about to march to Verdun. They only wait f