through Pierre as he thought where but too probably they were; probably enough in one or other of the prisons, crowded with many as gentle, as high-bred and delicate as they; possibly--for even children of Edmee's age had not been spared--possibly no longer alive; those innocent heads might already have fallen under the cruel guillotine! And the boy felt sick with fear and horror. But still it was also possible that they had escaped. The Countess had foreseen the danger, and spoken of plans for safety. She might, it was even very likely that it was so, have carried them out, and be at this, moment in hiding and disguise somewhere, near perhaps, in this great city of Paris! "Pierre's hope revived, but he looked up and down the deserted street in bewilderment. What could he do? whom could he ask? whither could he go? Just then a door on the opposite side opened cautiously, and a very dirty old woman poked out her head, looked this way and that, and then emerged with a bucketful of rubbish--cabbage stalks, egg-shells, and the like--which she emptied at the side of the gutter. She had not seen Pierre, who was somewhat in shadow, but he saw her, and darted forward. "`Good morning, Mad--Citizeness,' he said quickly. `Can you by chance tell me whose house that is opposite,' and he pointed to the door where he had been knocking. `I was sent there, but it was a fool's errand, I think. No one will open.' "`No wonder!' said the hag, glancing at him suspiciously, but taking him for some countrified lad new to Paris, as indeed he was. `No wonder!-- there's no one there. Ah no, indeed, my lord the marquis will never come lashing his horses out of his courtyard again,' and she gave a shrill laugh, `nor will my fine lady the sour-faced Marquise come driving by in her chariot. We've got it to ourself now! The grand hotels are to be had for low rents in this street,' and she turned to go in again. But Pierre, in his eagerness, caught her by the skirt, dirty as it was. "`But where are the others then?' he said. `There were other ladies there--not proud, or sour-faced either. You must have seen them if you lived here.' "`They're all gone, I tell you! Seen them? Yes, I daresay I did when I came every day for the rubbish those wasteful servants threw about. But it's our turn now--my son's and mine; we've got a fine hotel all to ourselves, you see! Yes, they're all gone--here and there too. Madame Guillotine will tell you; she's the only Madame now!' "`Are they all _dead_?' said Pierre, in a voice he would hardly have known for his own, and which struck even the half-crazed old hag with a sort of pity.