The old man puffed for a moment as he reached the top step. Then he picked up Marie Josephine’s cloak from the back of the chair and began to put it around her. “You are to come at once, Mademoiselle—at once, if you please, at once,” he muttered as he tied the ribbons at her throat with trembling fingers. “What are you doing, Gonfleur? Mademoiselle Saint Frère is not to go home until we have had the sweets. Where are they? Do not hurry so!” Rosanne put her hand on Gonfleur’s arm and shook it. “Do not say that it has been discovered that she came here to-night,” she went on. Gonfleur shook his head. “There is need of haste. The Little Mademoiselle cannot stay longer. No, she is not found out. It is not that. Would to the kind God is was only that, Mademoiselle. It is not a good night to be out.” Gonfleur stood shaking his head, still trembling as he answered. “Not a good night. What can you mean! It is a beautiful night. Do you not see how splendid it is downstairs and how happy we all are?” Rosanne frowned and spoke impatiently, holding on to Marie Josephine’s cape. “You shall not take her away so soon. She shall have the sweets and fruit before she goes.” “It is not happy outside, Mademoiselle Rosanne,” Gonfleur answered. Then turning to Marie Josephine, he said: “We will go back as we came, Mademoiselle. It is only a step to your portal where Proté will be waiting, but we must not delay. I entreat you, Mademoiselle, not to delay.” Gonfleur spoke so earnestly and seemed so uneasy that the two girls were impressed. There seemed nothing else to do but for Marie Josephine to go with him at once. The two friends kissed each other on each cheek and then, her hand in Gonfleur’s and with Flambeau at her heels, Marie Josephine went down the long, steep stairs. On the first landing she turned and looked back at Rosanne, who stood in the dusk of the red velvet lined balcony looking down at her, her fair hair falling about her shoulders. Marie Josephine waved her hand and Rosanne waved back. Gonfleur’s lanthorn was already lit, and it stood on an iron ledge by the door leading from the foot of the stairs to the courtyard of the great house. The court was deserted and they crossed it quickly, Gonfleur holding his charge’s hand firmly, and not once letting it go except for the moment when he unlocked the door leading from the court to the street. Marie Josephine was indignant with him for hurrying her away in such a fashion in the midst of the fun and before the sweets were served. She would have insisted on staying and would have told Gonfleur to wait until it was her pleasure to go, if her own position had not been an uncertain one. She had never done anything so daring before.