"I will not let them harm a hair of your head," he whispered in reply; "calm yourself, my dear madame." The quiet way in which he spoke seemed to bring back some part of her self-control. She ceased crying and stood by his side like a statue, although he could feel by the pressure on his arm that she still trembled. "Well, citizen, what would you with this citizeness?" repeated St. Hilaire in a loud voice, as the other men came up behind their comrade. "Her actions are suspicious; she may be an aristocrat. We want to bring her to the Section for examination," answered one of them. "Let her come to the Section," echoed another. The fellow who had first laid hands upon the countess now recovered speech. "If she's an aristocrat here's at her; I've killed many an aristocrat in my day." As he spoke he drew himself together and raising his musket leveled it at the woman's head. The countess tightened her grasp on St. Hilaire's arm with both her hands, rendering him powerless for the moment. St. Hilaire pushed her gently behind him, and looking straight into his opponent's face, said firmly:-- "She shall certainly go to the Section, citizen, but first put down your weapon and let me speak. I am Citizen St. Hilaire--were we in the Faubourg St. Michel almost anybody would be able to tell you who I am." "I know you, citizen!" exclaimed one of the men in the rear, "and you should know me also. My name is Gonflou!" and the fellow grinned good-naturedly over the shoulder of his companion, as if he recognized an old friend. "Ah yes, good citizen Gonflou!" repeated St. Hilaire. "Restrain the ardor of this patriot who handles his musket so carelessly, while I question the little citizeness." "Lower that musket, Haillon, or I'll beat your head with this," said Gonflou, rattling his heavy sabre threateningly. Haillon muttered an oath and lowered the muzzle of his weapon. "We can't be all night at this," he growled. "Better let me take a shot at the woman; she's an aristocrat, that's flat." St. Hilaire bent over the countess. "Release my arm!" She obeyed like a child. Stepping back with her a couple of paces, he continued:-- "Who is in the house you have just come out of? Answer me truthfully and fearlessly." She looked up into his face, and he saw that she now recognized him as she answered in a whisper, "My husband. He is ill. I could only venture out after midnight to summon a physician who is known to us." "Well," exclaimed Haillon, impatiently grinding the butt of his gun on the pavement, "how long does it take to find out about an aristocrat?" "She was going to summon a doctor to attend a sick father," said St. Hilaire without looking at Haillon. "Bah," growled the latter. "Right behind us," continued St. Hilaire, in a very low voice, and looking into the countess' face earnestly to enforce his words, "is a passageway that leads to the Rue d'Arcis." Madame d'Arlincourt nodded. She understood.