“One of them is almost ready to pop. That’s yours. Wouldn’t it be a jolly thing if we could roast one for Marie Josephine?” As she spoke Rosanne leaned forward and picked out the nut with a pair of long bronze tongs and laid it on the iron fender to cool. She had stayed with Lisle and his mother ever since her mother had gone to nurse her father. Events had crowded thick and fast after the departure of the others for Pigeon Valley. Madame de Soigné had had just time to get away before the gates were closely guarded, and her departure had been made possible only because of an excellent disguise. There had been no word from her, and Lisle and his mother did what they could to keep Rosanne from feeling the anxiety which they themselves experienced. She never left the house and they told her nothing of what happened in the city. She was used to believing what she was told, but she thought a great deal about it all, and she was more troubled than they knew. “Do you think we shall be going to Pigeon Valley soon, Lisle?” she asked suddenly. Lisle shook his head, eating the nut gingerly, for it was still hot. He and Rosanne had not known each other very well in the old days, but they had become fairly well acquainted in the three months that they had been together. Lisle did not find Rosanne half as interesting as the little sister whom he missed so much, but he liked her, and he had a protecting feeling for her. She was his responsibility, just as his mother was, and he wanted to do his best for both of them. This was what made things so hard for him, having to be careful for their sakes. What adventures he could have if he were alone! The days had been dull enough, in spite of all the happenings in the city, and time dragged heavily. They had had no word from Neville since he had left for Pigeon Valley, and the longing to hear from, the others at Les Vignes seemed sometimes more than they could bear, but each hid his emotion from the other. They had been taught to do this always, and now their training was making it easier for them to seem cheerful. “Do you think we can go to Pigeon Valley in the spring, Lisle? Please answer me,” Rosanne persisted. When Lisle still did not reply, she went on, trying to hide the tremble in her voice: “It is just as Marie Josephine said. You think that you are so very grown-up. You will not tell me of all you fear. I know that we are in great trouble. I’ve thought more about it since yesterday morning when Madame Saint Frère went to your Great-aunt Hortense, who is so very ill. There were tears in your mother’s eyes. I saw them. She is only to be away for a few days, and yet she did not like to leave us. Tell me, Lisle, please tell me all about it. I know it is a revolution and that I may not go out on the street to walk or ride and that the servants have left us and dear maman has not sent me any word since she went to papa. Tell me, Lisle, is it all so dreadful?”