Minuit gave Humphrey’s arm a soft bump with his head to remind him that he was holding an uneaten bit of cheese in his hand. Humphrey gave him the cheese, accompanied by a pat on the head. Then he relapsed into thoughtfulness again. He sat a long time at the deal table with his plump, round face propped up on his two hands. He was thinking of Lisle Saint Frère and of the great house where he lived and of all that had passed since he had snatched the boy from the spinner’s cart, when he had called out, “God save King Louis!” What awful things had happened in Paris since that night of the tenth of August when the gallant Marseillais had stormed the Tuileries and awakened Paris to action! Ah, that had been a great day for the people! They were worth-while men, those Marseillais who had cheered their long march across France with their own songs, who had come in their simplicity and valor to avenge their wrongs, to start a new era of liberty for the people, but who had not known, alas! that innocent people would so cruelly suffer, that Paris would go mad. He had made his decision to remain in Paris on that August night, as he paced up and down his room at the Croix d’Or. He would stay on, even if his staying might mean his death. His heart bled for the people of France who had been starved and taxed and unjustly treated for centuries and he had rejoiced when he heard the new song of liberty shouted in the streets: “Allons enfants de la patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrive!” Humphrey would have answered, if any one had asked him, that he had remained in France to “see the fun,” but this was not so. There was Vivi, who depended on him for her daily bread, and there was some one else who might need his help also. He knew in his own mind that it was greatly because of this some one else that he had decided to stay. The some one else was Lisle. Humphrey roused himself and got up, wrapped the bread and cheese carefully in brown paper, and, going over to the cupboard, put them on a shelf. It made him happy to supply food for little Vivi. He had come across her in a strange way. He had witnessed the accident at the pavilion which had caused the death of her father. The poor man had been selling his licorice water when the timbers from the pavilion fell on him. While some one went to get a cart in which to take him to a hospital, Humphrey held the man in his arms and spoke to him in his poor French. Afterward he had visited him at the hospital, and just before the man died, promised to look after his little girl. Humphrey had picked up the man’s tray and tin cups and given them to Vivi. He moved into the attic room above hers, so as to be able to look after her. His good action proved a safeguard to himself, for all foreigners at inns were being questioned and put under suspicion, and his days at the Croix d’Or would have been numbered had he remained.