off lay a body that the crowd had
trampled upon only a few moments before.

"But where are we?" murmured the terrified Coursegol.

The man to whom he had previously spoken drew a little nearer and said:

"You are, perhaps, a hundred paces from the prison where they executed
the prisoners scarcely an hour ago."

Then, drawing still nearer, so that no one save Coursegol could hear
him, he added:

"Advise that young girl not to cry out again as she did just now. If
some of these fanatics had heard her, she would have fared badly!"

At that very moment, the crowd resumed its march. The man disappeared.
When Coursegol, agitated by these horrors which were so new to him,
turned again to speak to Dolores, he saw that she had fainted in his
arms. The poor man glanced despairingly about him. Suddenly his eyes
fell upon a sign hanging over a shop on the opposite side of the street.
This sign represented a red Phrygian cap upon a white ground, and above
it was written in large red letters: "Le Bonnet Rouge." For a quarter of
an hour he had been standing directly opposite Bridoul's establishment.
He uttered a cry of joy, lifted Dolores in his strong arms, and, in a
stentorian voice, exclaimed:

"Make way! Make way, good citizens! My daughter has fainted!"

The Provencale costume worn by Dolores deceived the persons who would
otherwise have impeded Coursegol's progress.

"He is from Marseilles," some one cried.

Just at that time the Marseillais were heroes in the eyes of all good
patriots. The unusual height of Coursegol strengthened the illusion.

"Yes," remarked another, "he is one of the Marseillais who have come to
the aid of the Parisians."

The crowd opened before him. He soon reached the shop over which hung
the sign of the "Bonnet Rouge" and entered it. There were but few
customers in the large saloon. He placed Dolores in a chair, ran to the
counter, seized a glass of water, returned to the girl and bathed her
forehead and temples. In a moment she opened her eyes.

"My dear child, are you better?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, my good Coursegol," replied Dolores. Then she added: "Yes,
father, but I was terribly frightened."

"The citoyenne was crushed in the crowd!" said a voice behind Coursegol.
He turned and saw a woman who was still young. Suddenly he recollected
that Bridoul was married.

"Are you not Citoyenne Bridoul?" he asked.

"Certainly, Cornelia Bridoul."

"Where is your husband?"

"Here he is."