"The mood is gone, now that you are here." She took his arm, smiling up into his face. They strolled through the alleys of chestnut and maple, Nicole drawing her skirt across her, placing her feet daintily, shaking her head in pretended anger as from time to time a leaf fluttered against her cheek. "And the Girondins, mon ami? You have told me nothing of them." "It grows worse and worse for them. The Jacobins are relentless." "Don't identify yourself too much with them, then." "But that is cowardice." "No. If the Girondins fall, all the more will the Nation need the Moderates," Nicole answered anxiously, for her one dread was of his impulsive nature. "Why play into the hands of our enemies?" Leaving the gardens, they entered the Place de la Revolution. The vast square that had swarmed with the multitude on the day of the execution of the king was devoid of movement, except where a few curious, wandering toward the emplacement of the absent guillotine, streaked like insects across the placid expanse. Nearing the plaster statue of Liberty, Nicole was attracted by the lank figure of a man. "Look over there," she said, drawing Barabant's attention. "Wouldn't you say that it was Dossonville?" "There's a little resemblance." "Much." Barabant, who continued to study the figure, exclaimed: "Really, the resemblance is striking!" At this moment the man, turning, disclosed indeed the familiar features, while the well-known voice cried: "Mordieu! It is Nicole and my little orator Barabant! Well, what's the matter? Touch hands!" For Nicole, with a movement of superstition, had crossed herself, while Barabant, stock-still, remained staring stupidly at the apparition, until he was able to blurt out: "What, it is you! Then you're not dead." "Not even once!" he cried, slapping his hand emphatically across his chest. "I give you my word, it is not true! Come, feel of me. Is this the arm or the chest of a specter?" "Still, I saw you," exclaimed Nicole, unable to reconcile the fact to her memory--"I saw you at the gate of the Abbaye--" "My dear girl," Dossonville responded, with much good humor, "believe me, I am not dead; and, what's more, I never have been dead that I remember." "But--" "Mordieu, Nicole! are you determined to exterminate me?" Dossonville cried. "Let us reason. You saw me at the gate, but you didn't see me cut down, did you?" "No." "Then I reject your theory." The three burst out laughing, until Dossonville suddenly exclaimed: "But come, Louison must have told you." "Louison!" echoed Barabant and Nicole, more and more amazed. "Extraordinary woman! She can even keep a secret then!" Dossonville cried. "Why, it was Louison who found me in the crowd and piloted me to safety." He recounted shortly the events of his escape, adding, as he extended his arm in a sweeping embrace of the horizon: