"You said that, and escaped with your life from that den of aristocrats!" she exclaimed, in horror, for she had the popular idea that aristocrats were ogres and inhuman monsters. At the first words descriptive of his rescue she cried: "Dossonville; beyond a doubt, Dossonville!" "What, do you know him?" said Barabant. "Who and what is he?" "Now you have asked me a question. What is Dossonville?" Suddenly she became serious. "He is a mystery to me and to more than me. Frankly, I do not know his party, and don't believe any one else does. He is here and there, with the patriots one moment and the court the next; but whether he is acting for one side or for neither, no one knows. And he rescued you!" She meditated a moment. "That sounds like a patriot; but then, what was he doing in such a place?" The crowd became more boisterous as the wine-jugs grew lighter; seeing which, Nicole rose and made a sign to him to follow. In the front room she stopped before a vat on which, his huge body astride, Santerre was bandying jests with the crowd. Nicole, approaching, whispered: "Is it for to-night?" The brewer affected not to understand her. "Look here, my big fellow," she said, with the familiarity of the day, "do you want me to cry it from the housetops? Will you understand me now?" "I don't know when it is to be, or if it will ever be." He sank his voice. "The leaders are wavering; only the tocsin can tell." "We assemble by sections?" Santerre nodded. Nicole, only half satisfied, turned away. Barabant, who had overheard enough to form a conjecture, kept his counsel; but Nicole, approving his discretion, imparted the information. "They say we are to storm the Tuileries. But every one hangs back. They are in a panic at the last moment." "Why, it is folly; think of the National Guard!" Barabant exclaimed. "I see well you have just arrived. The National Guard, indeed! We are the National Guard. It is only the Swiss we have to fear." They had gained the right bank of the Seine, and paused from time to time to watch the water-carriers filling their casks in the river, and the loiterers angling sleepily in the shadow of the boats. Barabant, despite the fires of patriotic fervor, had for some time forgotten his mission in the contemplation of the fresh cheeks and the free carriage of his companion, more and more beguiled from his task of righting the wrongs of the nation by this gipsy of the streets who traversed the rough paths of fortune with such perfect bonhomie. Nicole, happening to look up, met an unmistakable fixture of gaze, and divined the workings of his mind. She withdrew slightly and said reprovingly: "Not too fast, Citoyen Barabant; we are not in the provinces." Barabant defended himself. "My dear Nicole, I have committed no offense. I have done nothing but wish. Judge my acts; my thoughts are not offenses." "You are not slow at an answer, citoyen," said Nicole, amused. "There, take my hand if you wish. Only, not too fast."