"The people of France in arms against tyranny!" Great placards, bearing these inspiriting words, are affixed to gallows-shaped posts, and flutter in the evening breeze, rendered scorching by the heat of the furnaces all around. Farther on, a group of older men, squatting on the ground, are busy making tents, and some women--the same Megaeras who daily shriek round the guillotine--are plying their needles and scissors for the purpose of making clothes for the soldiers. The soldiers are the entire able-bodied male population of France. "The people of France in arms against tyranny!" That is their sign, their trade-mark; one of these placards, fitfully illumined by a torch of resin, towers above a group of children busy tearing up scraps of old linen--their mothers', their sisters' linen --in order to make lint for the wounded. Loud curses and suppressed mutterings fill the smoke-laden air. The people of France, in arms against tyranny, is bending its broad back before the most cruel, the most absolute and brutish slave-driving ever exercised over mankind. Not even mediaeval Christianity has ever dared such wholesale enforcements of its doctrines, as this constitution of Liberty and Fraternity. Merlin's "Law of the Suspect" has just been formulated. From now onward each and every citizen of France must watch his words, his looks, his gestures, lest they be suspect. Of what--of treason to the Republic, to the people? Nay, worse! lest they be suspect of being suspect to the great era of Liberty. Therefore in the smithies and among the groups of tent-makers a moment's negligence, a careless attention to the work, might lead to a brief trial on the morrow and the inevitable guillotine. Negligence is treason to the higher interests of the Republic. Blakeney dragged Anne Mie away from the sight. These roaring furnaces frightened her; he took her down the Place St Michel, towards the river. It was quieter here. "What dreadful people they have become," she said, shuddering; "even I can remember how different they used to be." The houses on the banks of the river were mostly converted into hospitals, preparatory for the great siege. Some hundred mètres lower down, the new children's hospital, endowed by Citizen-Deputy Déroulède, loomed, white, clean, and comfortable-looking, amidst its more squalid fellows. "I think it would be best not to sit down," suggested Blakeney, "and wiser for you to throw your hood away from your face." He seemed to have no fears for himself; many had said that he bore a charmed life; and yet ever since Admiral Hood had planted his flag on Toulon Arsenal, the English were more feared than ever, and The Scarlet Pimpernel more hated than most. "You wished to speak to me about Paul Déroulède," he said kindly, seeing that the young girl was making desperate efforts to say what lay on her mind. "He is my friend, you know." "Yes; that is why I wished to ask you a question," she replied. "What is it?"