“It’s a great sight, isn’t it? No one was curious until they had to stay this side, but since the gates have been locked you’d think they thought the fields of paradise were just near by,” laughed Georges Fardou. There were no flowers, only a long stretch of road, the vanishing bulk of a market cart in the distance, and the vivid spring sky above. Vivi looked about her and then, putting her tray down, began to dance and sing: “Dansons la Carmagnole, Vive le son du canon!” The soldiers looked on, calling out approvingly: “That’s good. She might be a sans-culotte herself! Give us the 'Ça Ira,’ too!” Vivi danced and sang with all her might, enjoying the attention she got very much. When Fardou called her, she picked up her tray and came inside the gates, making a bow to the guard, who bowed mockingly in return. “Thank you, citizeness, for the entertainment. We shall see you one day at the Comédie Française, I daresay,” he remarked. “Thank you, Georges Fardou, for letting me outside the gates. It is not so nice there as I thought.” She swung her leather strap over her shoulder and went on crying her wares: “Licorice water, who wants licorice water!” Dian left Raoul and went to Humphrey Trail’s room in the alley. He had not expected to find Humphrey in, but was only too glad to see his broad kindly face looking around the corner of the door as he came up the stairs. “I’ve seen Madame Saint Frère,” Dian said as soon as he came into the room. Then he proceeded to tell Humphrey all about the morning. Humphrey’s face shone. “Tha has done well and there’s now a bit o’ light ahead. Th’ young lad, to think, he is in the bakery shop. How shall we save th’ lad?” Humphrey wrung his fat hands together as he spoke. “We shall do it, Humphrey Trail, and, if I have done well, you have done better, for though I have dreams and the hope that they will come true, you have already saved a little girl.” Dian smiled his slow smile and Humphrey Trail answered him: “Tha has something more than I ha’! Tha has trust!” As he spoke Humphrey sighed, longing for the confidence which made Dian so sure that Lisle would be rescued. He thought of the letter which Dian was holding until he found the right messenger to deliver it to Champar, the trusted coach driver, who would, in turn, give it into the hands of Grigge, who lived at the gates of the Saint Frère demesne. CHAPTER XIX IN THE BAKERY SHOP AND OUT OF IT The baker from the rue Saint Honoré was so cross that he glowered at his wife when she handed him a cup of steaming, nicely sweetened coffee and a plate of cream buns. He was worried, which was one reason for his being cross. He snapped out these words as he took a long drink of the good coffee: