Bridoul appeared. He had followed his wife in order to see the young
Provencale who had been brought into his shop.

"Do you know me?" inquired Coursegol.

"Can it be Coursegol?"

"Yes; I am your brother-in-law; this young girl is your niece. We have
just arrived from Beaucaire. I will explain everything by and by."

Bridoul cast a hasty glance around him. No one was observing them. The
few who had been sitting at the table had risen and gone to the door,
attracted there by the increasing tumult without.

"Take the young lady into the back room," Bridoul whispered to his wife.
"There will be a crowd here in a moment."

The latter made haste to obey. It was time. In another moment Dolores
would have been obliged to witness an even more horrible spectacle than
that upon which her eyes had rested a short while before. The shop was
suddenly taken by storm. Several men with repulsive faces, long hair
and cruel eyes, and whose clothing was thickly spattered with blood,
entered the saloon, followed by a yelling crowd. People mounted on
chairs and tables to obtain a look at them. They were the city
executioners. They ordered wine which Bridoul hastened to place before
them. One carried in his hand the newly decapitated head of a woman,
whose fair hair was twined round his bare arm. Before drinking his wine
he placed the head upon the counter. Coursegol closed his eyes to shut
out the ghastly sight. He had recognized the features of the Princesse
de Lamballe. When the men had finished their wine, one said:

"Now we will have the hair of this citoyenne dressed so that Marie
Antoinette will recognize her."

And addressing Bridoul, he added:

"Is there any hair-dresser in this neighborhood?"

"About a hundred paces from here, on the Place de la Bastille," replied
Bridoul.

"On! on!" shouted the executioners.

And taking the head of the unfortunate Princess they departed,
accompanied by the crowd that had followed them from the prison. A few
moments later the saloon was empty. Bridoul hastened into the back room.
Coursegol followed him. Fortunately the two women had not seen what had
occurred, and, thanks to Cornelia Bridoul's friendly offices, Dolores
had regained her composure.

"First of all, are you classed among the suspected characters?" the wine
merchant inquired of Coursegol. "Are you trying to escape from your
pursuers? Must I conceal you?"

"No," replied Coursegol "We have come to Paris in the hope of f