ll come to her unless my
right hand loses its cunning. No doubt as soon as her identity is
known she will be released. But, it must be kept quiet, you
understand? Her absence must be concealed if possible."

"O God! O God!"

The misery of old Peter was piteous. First, he would run toward the
carts, swearing he would follow them on foot; then he would totter
back, crying:

"I must tell Madame Riano!"

Meanwhile I had gone out, had engaged the first coach for hire and
followed the odd procession as it started toward the Temple. In the
first cart sat, besides the soldier driving, the officer, Jacques
Haret, and Lafarge, who was to lodge the information. Jacques Haret
and Lafarge got to fighting in the cart, but that was speedily
stopped. Then Jacques took to sharpening his wit on Lafarge and his
bad acting, and the first thing I saw, the officer and the soldier
were near tumbling out of the cart with laughter at their prisoner. I
thought this boded ill for Lafarge, as the case would be heard before
the Grand Prieur de Vendome, and this Grand Prieur was not the great
grandson of Henri Quatre for nothing--he, too, loved wit as well as
wine and women. In the next cart were several children including the
cobbler's boy, who continued to yell vociferously and to beg that he
should not be hanged. On the plank with the soldier driving sat
Francezka Capello.

She wore no hat, and still had on her blond wig, and her fresh cheeks
were raddled with paint--she had been unpainted in the first piece.
But I could see her pallor under her rouge. She had on a large crimson
mantle, which she wrapped around her, and sat perfectly still and
silent. After all, she was the only creature in the party who had
anything to fear, and yet she was the calmest of them all. The soldier
driving, who was a good-natured fellow, began to cheer up the weeping
children, and soon had them all smiling except the cobbler's boy and
Francezka.

"Come now," he said. "This is nothing but a pleasant ride to a nice
place, called the Temple, where there will be plenty of bread and
cheese for you, and some nice clean straw for you to sleep on--and
early to-morrow morning you will be sent home to your fathers and
mothers, and you will each have a penny--or perhaps a whole livre, so
don't be crying, but hold on now--"

Then he whipped up the horse so as to give the children a merry jolt,
and the youngsters all began to laugh--still excepting the two
co-stars of