Dian regarded Lisle gravely and then nodded. Yes, he would do. His hair was cut short and dyed also, and he wore a homespun suit and rough, awkward shoes. His coarse shirt was open at his throat, which showed brown enough from the dye, and his eyebrows were ruffed up and there was a splash of cherry juice across one of them. He was to be eating cherries as he drove through with the cart. He stood before them, a far different figure from the Lisle Saint Frère who had danced the minuet at the De Soigné ball. “Well, it’s time to start. We are ready, all of us.” Dian spoke in his usual simple, direct way and they followed him without a word. Marie Josephine was the last to climb the ladder stairs. She looked back at the quiet, tender gloom of the old place. “Good-by,” she whispered. “Sometime we are coming back, all of us!” They each knew what to do and there was no need for discussion. Dian and Humphrey, accompanied by Lisle, went on ahead, and the two little girls with Jean followed at a distance but kept near enough so as not to lose sight of them. In any case they were to find their way to the West Barricade. It was dusk when they reached the gates, and the first pink glow of a spring sunset showed above the tall, gaunt forge that was busy near by making guns for the army of the revolution. The market gardener stood by the empty cart and hailed Dian and Humphrey cheerfully. Then he looked Lisle over from head to foot. Lisle was eating cherries unconcernedly and only gave a sheepish side nod to the market gardener as he looked him over. “He seems fond of cherries, that lad of yours,” he said to Dian. “Bien! I must go to a meeting. See that you hurry on. As it is you’ll not be at my farm before night. The shepherd here says you know the way. Here’s your pay. Good-day, citizens,”—and the stout, fussy man hurried away to wrangle at a meeting until well into the morning. Lisle jumped on to the cart and took the reins. “Remember, Champar is to be waiting a few rods from the gates. Leave the horse and cart under a tree by the first turn. Champar will see that they reach the market gardener’s. He has told his cousin to fetch them there. Drive as quickly as you can. Don’t talk with the soldier at the gates unless you are forced to.” Dian spoke quickly in a low tone. Lisle nodded, took the reins, and drove toward the Barricade. A soldier stopped him, but he had been told that another lad would drive through with the cart and he knew the cart well. It had red wheels, and he and Raoul had often joked about it. “You’ll be where your friend is if you eat many of those this time of year, young citizen,” the man said. Lisle made a face, but said nothing, holding out some cherries to the man, who accepted two or three. It was Vivi’s friend, Georges Fardou, who came on duty at half past five. He waved his hand. “Go on with you,” he said, and Lisle drove through.