"I, myself, was so excited I could not think; but when I collected my few senses I recollected that St. Hilaire had told you of a place of refuge in case of emergency. 'My little colonel is there,' I said to myself, and flew here on the wind. Everywhere along the way people were congratulating one another. The greatest excitement prevailed. No notice was taken of an old man of eighty running like a lad of sixteen. When I reached your door I took off my wig and beard and put them in my pocket. Ah, my colonel, we shall wear our own faces; we shall speak our own minds, now that the tyrant himself is in the toils." "Will they be able to keep him there?" asked Father Ambrose; "he will not yield without a struggle. The Jacobins may try to arouse the masses to rescue him." "The populace is seething with excitement," said Gaillard. "Some quarters of the town are for the fallen tyrant; others are against him. In the Faubourg St. Antoine, the stronghold of the Jacobins, Robespierre is openly denounced by some, yet his adherents are still strong there and are arming themselves. The convention stands firm as a rock. 'Down with the tyrant!' is the cry." "There is work for us," exclaimed Tournay. "Father Ambrose," he continued, turning to the priest, "I must go out at once. I leave you to tell the news to Mademoiselle de Rochefort. Tell her to remain here in the strictest seclusion until I return and assure her that we can leave here in safety. I leave her in your keeping, Father Ambrose. Now, Gaillard, let us go." In the streets, Tournay found that his friend had not exaggerated the popular excitement. As they walked along both he and Gaillard kept their ears alert to hear everything that was said. Suddenly a noise caused them to stop and look into each other's faces with consternation. "The tumbrils!" exclaimed Gaillard, in answer to Tournay's look. "That looks bad for our party," said Tournay. "One would expect the executions to cease, or at least be suspended, on the day of Robespierre's arrest." "There is no one to give a coherent order," replied Gaillard. "Some of the prison governors do not know which way to turn, or whom to obey. The same with the police. They need a leader." As he spoke they turned into the Rue Vaugirard and saw coming toward them down the street two death carts, escorted by a dozen gendarmes. The street was choked with a howling mass of people, and from their shouts it was manifest that some were demanding that the carts be sent back, while others were equally vociferous in urging them on. Meanwhile, the gendarmes stolidly made their way through the crowd as best they could. Many of the occupants of the tumbrils leaned supplicatingly over the sides of the carts and implored the people to save them. The crowd finally became so large as to impede the further progress of the carts. "My God!" cried Tournay, grasping Gaillard by the arm. "There is St. Hilaire."