During the few weeks of winter that Rosanne had been with her, little Vivi had been content to stay inside; but now that the ice was melting and the robins were singing in the Bois, Vivi wanted to be out in the Paris that she knew, even in the midst of its terror. There was nothing for her to fear. Humphrey knew that he had no right to keep her a prisoner, and as they walked toward the West Barricade, he felt heavy at heart. They had left Rosanne locked up in the little room with Minuit to keep her company. There was nothing new for him to work upon, no hint of Lisle’s whereabouts. Always the soldiers stood guarding the house of Lisle’s Great-aunt Hortense, the Marquise du Ganne. Vivi chatted happily, holding his big hand confidently. “Very soon now I’ll be selling licorice water near the gates. People will be very thirsty soon, and many can not afford the wine. I shall make a little trade every day.” It was early afternoon, and the sun shone bravely. Groups of men sauntered about, talking loudly, and soldiers of the Republic stood on guard close to the gates. Children, black with soot and raggedly clad, ran about, happy to get a breath of air after hours of work in a near-by forge, where they helped their mothers make waste for the guns. They danced about in the sunlight, twisting in and out in the dance that held all the mobs of Paris in its sway. As they danced, they sang in their high, weak voices: “Dansons la Carmagnole, Vive le son du canon!” Vivi knew some of these children. She ran up to them and soon was dancing with them, glad of the fresh air and the sun and to be out in the open again. Humphrey Trail spoke to one of the soldiers who was standing near the gates. “A good day for the people, this. Long live the Republic!” he said. The soldier gave a loud laugh. [Illustration: Vivi] “You might be one of the five hundred from Provence by the way you speak. Sapristi! I swear I can not understand but a quarter of their jabber. Look out there, you young brat, you’re always bumping that basket around.” The soldier said this last to a boy, who, running and carrying his basket at the same time, flopped over on the ground, his head falling against the side of the basket and his whole face convulsed with laughter. It was Raoul, and as he was so often about the gate he knew all the soldiers and he was not in the least afraid of this one. “What a funny man! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I had a bet with Guy Soufflot that I would run into him and knock him over, just for the fun of seeing him tumble about like a rubber ball. What a funny man!” Raoul laughed up at Humphrey Trail as he spoke.