Then, taking a louis d'or from her pocket, she handed it to the pastry-cook. "This is the price agreed upon," she added. There is a sort of poverty which the poor are quick to divine. The pastry-cook and his wife looked at each other and then at the old lady, exchanging the same thought. That louis d'or was evidently the last. The lady's hands trembled as she held out that coin, at which she gazed sorrowfully but without avarice; but she seemed to realise the full extent of the sacrifice. Fasting and poverty were written upon that face, in lines as legible as those of fear and ascetic habits. There were vestiges of past splendour in her clothes: they were worn silk; a neat though old-fashioned cloak, and lace carefully mended--in a word, the rags and tatters of opulence. The trades-people, wavering between pity and self-interest, began by relieving their consciences in words: "But, citizeness, you seem very weak----" "Would madame like something to refresh herself?" asked the woman, cutting her husband short. "We have some very good soup," added the pastry-cook. "It's so cold! perhaps madame was chilled by her walk? But you can rest here and warm yourself a little." "The devil is not as black as he is painted," cried the pastry-cook. Won by the kind tone of the charitable shopkeeper's words, the lady admitted that she had been followed by a stranger, and that she was afraid to return home alone. "Is that all?" replied the man with the red cap. "Wait for me, citizeness." He gave the louis to his wife; then, impelled by that species of gratitude which finds its way into the heart of a tradesman when he receives an extravagant price for goods of moderate value, he went to don his National guardsman's uniform, took his hat, thrust his sabre into his belt, and reappeared under arms. But his wife had had time to reflect; and, as in many other hearts, reflection closed the open hand of kindliness. Perturbed in mind, and fearing that her husband might become involved in some dangerous affair, the pastry-cook's wife tried to stop him by pulling the skirt of his coat; but, obeying a charitable impulse, the good man at once offered to escort the old lady. "It seems that the man who frightened the citizeness is still prowling about the shop," said the young woman, nervously. "I am afraid so," the lady artlessly replied. "Suppose he should be a spy? Suppose it was a conspiracy? Don't go with her, and take back the box." These words, whispered in the pastry-cook's ear by his wife, congealed the impromptu courage which had moved him. "I'll just go out and say two words to him, and rid you of him in short order!" cried the man, opening the door and rushing out.