“Yes; in less than a week we set forth. Marguerite had almost forgotten her father; but she was restless to go in search of him. The little property we had was almost gone, but we turned it into money, and came away. Oh! it was a terrible undertaking. Day after day, I wandered about that grim building hoping, in a wild fashion, that some chance would give me sight of him—but nothing came of it. I knew that he was there, and the knowledge wounded the heart in my bosom; but in Paris I was helpless as in Germany. How would I get him from underneath that grim pile of stones? It was like beating myself against a rock. I went to men learned in the law; I wrote petitions, and gave money to have them presented to the king; I made vain efforts to get speech of him; but all was useless, our money melted away, my strength left me; from one place to another we were driven here, helpless and starving, and oh my God! he is in that hideous dungeon yet!” “Take courage, my friend; it will not be forever. Do not let those poor hands fall so despondently in your lap. Better times are coming. All these terrible grievances will be laid before the king. He is not cruel; some day he will open the doors of that awful Bastille, and let the people look in. They are getting curious, impatient. No power can keep them much longer in the dark. I have seen it; they thought me a blacksmith, for I went in place of a man who had taught me something of his craft; for, madame, it is my pleasure to know everything, and, like the king, I have a taste for working in iron. I went over more than one of those hideous dungeons, and saw their inmates. What I saw was given to the clubs, and in that way to the people. They are learning all the secrets walled-in by that pile of stone. The knowledge ferments—let it work. By-and-by we shall know what it is to arouse millions of slaves to a knowledge that liberty exists.” The two women looked at the strange man in supreme wonder; his eyes glowed, his figure drew itself up erectly; his right arm was extended, as if addressing an audience. The glow of a powerful enthusiasm was upon him. The elder woman stood up, the food she had taken made her strong; this man’s enthusiasm extended itself to her. “I have knelt this day in the street, only to be covered with mud,” she said. “I have worked, starved, entreated, that an innocent man might be taken from a dungeon worse than the grave, and all to no avail. Others suffer as I do; other women have seen their husbands buried alive, and have heard the cries of their own anguish mocked by the nobility, which stands between the people and their king. Tell me what to do, and if human will can accomplish anything, it shall be done. Marguerite, come hither.”