“It’s not done, as a rule. They’d be up there, every last one of them, if they knew we had an aristocrat in keeping. Well, it won’t be for long now. She will go to La Force I daresay. You can have a look for friendship’s sake, but keep a quiet tongue about it. Go up the back stairway and straight down a hall. She’s in a room at the left and you can see her because the upper corner of the door is broken through. The mob did that when we first took the house over. She was in the west wing then, but we moved her to the other side.” The official bent over his writing, and Dian and Raoul went on through the long hall to the back of the house. “Go on ahead of me, my lad. I’ll warrant you’ll take the steps three at a time, and I would take my leisure,” Dian said to Raoul as they came to the foot of a long flight of stairs. How often had the old comte spoken to him of this house of his aunt’s where he had spent so many days of his youth! Raoul ran on up the steps three at a time, just as Dian had said he would. When he was well on in front, Dian took a small notebook and a piece of charcoal from the inner pocket of his cloak and, placing the book against the tapestry wall at the side of the stairs, wrote these words: “Tear this after reading. Lisle is imprisoned in the bakery shop at rue Saint Honoré. I shall find a way to save him and to save you. Mademoiselle de Soigné is safe with friends. Keep up your courage. Dian.” Then he went on up the stairs and down the hall. Raoul was already looking through the small, shattered paling at the side of the heavy, nail-studded door. There was a red brocaded curtain in front of the door. Raoul looked back over his shoulder. “My, she’s grand and solemn looking. She’s sitting by the window!” He moved away so that Dian could peer through. The shepherd hesitated. It was not to his liking, this looking in on a woman, but he wanted to see what the room was like and to pass his note to the comtesse. He put his eyes to the opening and saw the comtesse sitting, as Raoul had said, by the narrow window, dressed in her black frock, her hands folded in her lap. Raoul had roamed on down the hall, peering in at doors and shuffling his feet along the velvet carpet as he went. Dian said softly, “Come to the door, Madame.” The comtesse heard him, gave a start, and then came quickly across the room, both hands at her heart. She saw his face and recognized him at once. There was no time for more than a word. He dropped the note at her feet, whispering, “Be ready when I come.” Then he turned away and joined Raoul, who was already shuffling toward him. They walked back toward the West Barricade together, and, as they walked, Raoul asked inquisitively: “Why do you not take us to your lodgings? Where is it that you stay?”