It was while Humphrey was frying the bacon for breakfast, assisted by Marie Josephine, who stood by the frying pan and turned the slices with a one-pronged fork when they began to brown nicely, that Lisle spoke with Dian. “I am glad that I shall not be with the others going through the gates, for some one might recognize me and suspect them all. I am so much taller than the others, too big to be a playmate for Vivi. Tell me, Dian, what will become of her. I do not like to leave her unbefriended. There must be something we can do for her.” Dian was glad to hear Lisle say this, and his face bore a very earnest look as he answered: “You are right to ask for her, and I have told Mademoiselle de Soigné and the Little Mademoiselle that she is safe. I will tell you more than this. I could not go away from Paris leaving Vivi alone and unprotected, to starve. She has been our friend, loyal always. I shall take care of her in the country where she will be happy as the sunshine. I hope that Mother Barbette will open her heart to her, finding in her the little girl she has always wanted for her own. It was easy to procure a passport for Vivi, and she leaves the gates to-morrow at twelve——” “But you said—I don’t understand—— How can Marie Josephine be taken for her if she has already gone?” Lisle looked up, deeply puzzled. “Do you not see? Her friend, Georges Fardou, will not be there at noon. He comes on duty always at five. He will know nothing of Vivi’s having left and will play the game of letting her through the gates as usual. What we must hope—aye, and pray—is that he will let her little comrades through also!” Lisle smiled. “You are you, Dian. Next you will tell me that the others at Pigeon Valley are safe!” “That I can tell you now. Listen well. They are safe enough in a deserted barn near Calais. Champar, the cross-eyed coach driver, took them there. I was saving this to tell you at the last before we leave, in order to give you all, especially Mademoiselle de Soigné, good courage.” “Cécile du Monde in a deserted barn!” Lisle threw back his head in the old way. Then he laughed. “We are all a set of vagabonds. Eh bien! so much the better. Rosanne,” he called to her over his shoulder, “we are tramps, all of us. Dian has more news. Cécile and Bertran and that funny Proté and Madame le Pont and Hortense are safe, hiding in a barn——”