“He does,” said her son. “Try not to be so unjust to Louis, ma mère! You know what an ardent Royalist he is, and you are far from disapproving of him on that score. If he chooses to play his head for the cause, as he is doing now, it may be foolish of him, but it is hardly scandalous.” The Marquise got up and gathered together her silks. “As you like, my dear boy,” she said, with an air of resignation. “I do not want to dictate to you. Dear me, what a singular hurry M. des Graves appears to be in!” For the priest was now hastening along the terrace walk with a newspaper in his hand. He did not speak until he was nearly at the top of the steps. “The courier has just brought the Paris paper,” he said, a little out of breath. “There is very serious news in it. The mob has invaded the Tuileries.” “Invaded the Tuileries!” exclaimed the Marquise with incredulous horror. “Then—— O mon Dieu!” “No one was injured, Madame,” put in the priest quickly. “The account most expressly says so.” A heartfelt “Thank God!” from Gilbert, who had perceptibly paled, accompanied the Marquise’s sigh of relief as she sank down again into her chair. “The paper merely says,” went on the Curé, glancing at it, “that several thousand armed persons from the Faubourgs Saint Antoine and Saint Marcel——” “The worst quarters of Paris!” ejaculated the Marquise. “—Accompanied to the Assembly a deputation demanding the recall of the Girondin ministry dismissed by the King on the 13th. Afterwards they forced an entrance into the palace, threatening to bring cannon to bear on the great gates if they were not opened. The newspaper—which is Jacobin—states that calm and order prevailed throughout, and that great enthusiasm was manifested when the King himself put on the _bonnet rouge_.” “The King put on the cap of liberty!” exclaimed Madame de Château-Foix. “It is impossible!” “Was the mob in Madame Elisabeth’s apartments?” asked the Marquis quickly. “Does it say anything about the Princess and her ladies?” “I can see nothing specific,” replied the priest, holding out the newspaper, “except that Madame Elisabeth was with the King, while the Queen appears to have been in another room. But you had better read it for yourself. As far as I can gather, the crowd roamed for hours all over the palace—the gates were opened at half-past eleven, and the invaders were there till half-past eight at night. So it is probably useless for us to hope that Lucienne was spared the sight of them.” Gilbert dashed the paper down on the balustrade. “It is monstrous!” he cried. “I am as good a Liberal as any man, but this outrage! . . . Now, at all events, I must start for Paris!” “Poor, poor darling!” exclaimed Madame de Château-Foix, referring not to her son but to his betrothed. “Bring her back as quickly as you can, Gilbert—you will, of course, have to bring Madame de Fontenelle, too—though I do not know how you will manage, for she is very old. Perhaps I——”