"Of the Citoyen Javogues. Was I not right?" "He frightens me," Nicole said frankly. "He had the air of a butcher--a madman. Well, how shall I express it? He made me tremble, almost with a premonition of danger." "Ah, you cannot understand him," Geneviève protested. "To me he is heroic!" "What a little Jacobin!" Nicole said, with a smile. Without attaching further importance to what she considered the whim of a child, she added: "Well, mon enfant, here is your room. The half of it is yours for as long as you want it." She passed to the window, casting a longing glance at the dark window opposite. Surprised at Geneviève's silence, she turned, a little provoked. The child was crying. "Dear Geneviève!" she cried, springing to her side and taking her in her arms. "Don't try to thank me; I understand." But the girl, through her sobs, murmured again and again, "Thank you, ah, thank you!" "But it is I who am thankful," Nicole protested. "You bring me something to love and to care for. I was getting used to solitude, which is dangerous." Checking her thanks, she snuffed the candle, stretching out upon the bed beside the girl. "Yes, it is bad for one to be always alone," she said. Geneviève timidly covered her hands with kisses. "No, no, kiss me on the cheek," Nicole said. "And now, if you are going to obey, go right to sleep." The child nestled closer, drawing Nicole's arm about her. The embrace seemed strange to Nicole, and, without quite understanding why, she sought to draw her arm away. V THE TAKING OF THE TUILERIES Boom! Boom! All at once Nicole and Geneviève found themselves on their feet in the middle of the dark room. Through the open window there fell upon their ears a wild metal shriek, hoarse, furious, angry, that spoke of fire and of the dungeon--the boom of the tocsin. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Nicole bounded to the window. Below she beheld startled heads in white night-caps scattered down the length of the walls. As one dog wakes the pack, another and another bell took up the call, till from every point of the horizon broke forth the jangle and clang of the iron throats of Paris. Below, a few tiny cries rose through the murmur. Across the roofs came the thin shrieks of a woman. Lights began to appear, forms clad in night-dress. Suddenly across the court tore into the night Barabant's frenzied voice. "To arms! to arms!" As though awaiting the signal, there burst upon the ear the rumbling of drums, the scattered popping of firearms, calls and answering calls flung from roof to roof. "To arms, citoyens, to arms!" A frenzy passed over Nicole. She leaned far out, and gathering her voice, echoed: "To arms!"