r Angelot and Henriette were coming across the
meadow.

The Prefect's delicate brows went up; he shrugged his shoulders, and
moved off with a somewhat absent air to meet the young people.

The sunshine, the flowery meadow, the motionless woods all about in the
still afternoon: no background could be more peaceful. Nor could any
unwelcome visitor with official power be more gentle and courteous than
the Prefect as he took off his hat and bowed low to the slim child in
her old clinging frock, who curtseyed with her hands full of crocuses
and a covered basket on her arm. But little Riette and her cousin
Angelot watched the amiable Prefect with anxious, suspicious eyes, and
she took his kind words and compliments with an ease of reply which was
not quite natural. She was a responsible person in her father's house at
all times; but the fates of men had never, perhaps, been hung round her
neck before. Why, the very fact of their concealment would be enough to
condemn the four in government eyes looking out for conspiracies. And
Monsieur des Barres, always lively, had said to Riette ten minutes ago:
"Now, mademoiselle, you have sheltered us, you have fed us; we depend on
you to keep all inconvenient persons out of the wood."

"Stay where you are till they are gone, and have no fear," the child
answered, and went back to meet the enemy.

And presently the Prefect said, "You have gathered some very pretty
flowers, mademoiselle."

"Pray take some, monsieur," said Riette.

The Prefect took two crocuses in his fingers, and cleverly slipped them
into a buttonhole, for which they were not very well suited. Then he
went on talking about flowers for a minute or two, but the subject was
soon exhausted, for his knowledge lay among garden flowers, and Riette
knew none but those that grew among her own woods and fields. Then
suddenly and without warning, those pointed fingers of his had lifted
the cover of the basket. It was done with a smile, as one might do it, a
little mischievously, to a child trying to hide something, and with the
words--"More flowers, mademoiselle?" At the bottom of the basket lay two
corks and a small roll of bread. St. Elizabeth's miracle was not
repeated for Henriette.

Angelot smiled and bit his lip; then looked at the faces of his two
companions. In the Prefect's there was plainly a question. Riette
flushed crimson; for a moment her dark eyes were cast down; then there
was something both roguish and path