Humphrey had sat down again at the table and he remained there for a long time, deep in thought. Suddenly he was startled by sounds of wild laughter and shouting from the rue Saint Antoine, as groups of citizens danced by. They were shouting a new and terrible song: “Dansons la Carmagnole, Vive le son du canon!” Humphrey stood up, wrapped his snuff-colored cloak about him, and picking up his wide hat, went out, closing the door softly behind him. He made his way through the alley to the noisy rue Saint Antoine and went on swiftly through the dark, wintry streets. Everywhere were hurrying masses of people. Snatches of the “Ça Ira,” the favorite song of the crowds, could be heard on all sides and wild, dark faces under scarlet caps peered out of the gloom. He turned in at a brightly lighted shop on the rue Royale. It was the bakery shop where he had bought for Vivi the first cake that she had ever eaten. Now he wanted to buy her another. On the first days of his visit to the great city, Humphrey had come to this bakery several times, in order to indulge in his love for sweets. It had once been very fashionable. Less than a year before, it had been filled with smart lackeys, who carried charming boxes of maroons or candied grapes to their ladies’ sedan chairs. Now no such finery was seen. Instead the shop was patronized by honest farmer people from the country and rich merchants of the city who were heart and soul in sympathy with the revolution, never dreaming that their turn to suffer was coming soon. The baker woman still sold her neat rows of cherry tarts. On the wooden gallery above, talkative groups drank their eau citron and enjoyed the good cakes. Humphrey eyed the pile of puffy brioche set out on a tray next to a gleaming pile of fruit confits, and he wondered what to buy for Vivi. He felt guilty in buying anything but bread, but he could not resist the pleasure he would be giving Vivi, who had never had any sweets in all her life. Humphrey admired Vivi because she had been so brave when her father died, and because she could smile when she was hungry! As he stood there undecided, the shop door opened with a clang, and turning his head, Humphrey saw a boy enter and stand near him at the counter. After a moment, he realized that it was Lisle. He wore a shabby black suit which had evidently belonged to a groom, his locks were tied back with a bit of black tape, and the cap which he held in his hands was a dismal, ragged one. He was evidently attempting a disguise, but it was a poor one, and when Humphrey heard him ask the woman for the cakes, his heart sank. Lisle’s attempt to change his voice was more futile than his attempt to change his garb. “I want a cake for a little girl, citizen, something simple but very good,” Lisle said to the bakery woman.