“Monsieur mistakes, I believe,” said she quietly. “Perhaps he thinks I carry a fan. Look here”—and she exhibited the butt of an enormous horse-pistol. “The authoress of Lélia knows well how to command respect for herself.” “George Sand!” I exclaimed in amazement. “The same, monsieur; who will be happy to meet you this evening at an early hour, behind the barricade of the Rue Montmartre.” “O good Lord!” cried Mr Hutton Bagsby, “here is a precious kettle of fish! They are firing out yonder like mad; they’ll be breaking into the houses next, and we’ll all be murdered to a man.” “Do not be alarmed, Mr Bagsby; this is a mere political revolution. The people have no animosity whatever to strangers.” “Haven’t they? I wish you had seen the way the waiter looked this morning at my dressing case. They’d tie me up to the lamp-post at once for the sake of my watch and seals! And I don’t know a single word of their bloody language. I wish the leaders of the League had been hanged before they sent me here.” “What! then you are here upon a mission?” “Yes, I’m a delegate, as they call it. O Lord, I wish somebody would take me home!” “Where do you reside, Mr Bagsby?” “I don’t know the name of the street, and the man who brought me here has just gone away with a gun! Oh dear! what shall I do?” I really felt considerably embarrassed. By this time Monte-Christo and most of his guests had departed, and I knew no one to whom I could consign the unfortunate and terrified free-trader. I sincerely pitied poor Bagsby, who was eminently unfitted for this sort of work; and was just about to offer him an asylum in my own apartments, when I felt my shoulder touched, and, turning round, recognised the intelligent though sarcastic features of Albert the ouvrier. “You are both English?” he said in a perfectly pure dialect. “_Eh bien_, I like the English, and I wish they understood us better. You are in difficulties. Well, I will assist. Come with me. You may depend upon the honour of a member of the Institute. Workman as I am, I have some influence here. Come—is it a bargain? Only one caution, gentlemen: remember where you are, and that the watchwords for the night are _fraternité_, _égalité_! You comprehend? Let us lose no time, but follow me.” So saying, he strode to the door. Bagsby said not a word, but clutched my arm. But as we descended the staircase, he muttered in my ear as well as the chittering of his teeth would allow:— “It is _him_—I am perfectly certain! Who on earth would have believed this! O Lord Harry!” CHAPTER III. THE BARRICADES.