Marie Josephine gave a happy little laugh. “Yes, we do, and I’ll stop talking altogether for a few minutes.” She turned toward her brother as she spoke. He was sitting with his head thrown back against the grey stone wall, his hands at his sides. He wore one of the dark velvet suits which brought back memories of the schoolroom. Dian had found it upstairs and had brought it down to him. Marie Josephine had only been told that Lisle was safe in the hidden cellar. She knew nothing of the baker shop. As she turned to look at him, he smiled back at her, the first time since he had smiled at the bakery woman over the cake. He was so astounded at what she had done, that he could scarcely believe it was not all a dream. What was it Dian had said there by the panel, that wonderful smile on his face?—“think of the protection that has been with you.” Marie Josephine and Jean had come safely through to the heart of Paris. His sister was sitting there beside him in a disguise which she had thought of and carried out herself. She had known high adventure, and she told it all simply as an interesting story, without a trace of vainglory. “Why did you come, Marie Josephine? Was it because of the hidden cellar?” Lisle asked her, and Dian, as he bent over his cooking in a far corner of the room, listened for her reply. He had built a small fire in a rough hollow of the floor and he was brewing chocolate. The fire made some smoke but not enough to cause discomfort, drifting off into the dim recesses of the alcoves beyond. “I came because of knowing about it, partly because of that and partly because grandfather had told me that I was to tell about it if it were to save a life. I thought and thought about it all winter. It seemed as though the spring would never come. I knew no one would dream of letting me come, of course, and I didn’t tell any one but Jean about what I was going to do. If you want me to I’ll go right on telling some more while we have the chocolate. There is so much to tell!” Dian took off the red, brocaded cloth and brought out a white one from a shelf in a sort of small cavern in the wall. He spread it on the table. Marie Josephine jumped up, breaking off with, “I’ll set the table. I can talk while I’m doing it. Bring the silver, and the horn drinking cups, Jean. They’re there on the shelf. You see,” she looked across and smiled at Jean as she spoke, “I—I’ve been here in the hidden cellar before!” Lisle was still sitting with his head thrown back against the stone wall, and as Marie Josephine looked over at him, a drinking cup in one hand and a silver spoon in the other, she noticed suddenly that his face was very white there in the candlelight and that there was something different about it. It was always like him to keep things to himself. She came across to him slowly.