"Why he is here, my boy. He has been here for three days. He brought with him to his sister's house that young girl and a handsome young man. They came stealthily and they have all kept as quiet as mice. I have not seen even Louis Pierre's sister. She must however go out at night to buy provisions. But through a window I have seen the f aces of Louis Pierre and the handsome gentleman." "Has he been casting eyes at you?" jealously inquired Patin, whereupon his mistress boxed his ears, and so diverted his thoughts from this trend of suspicion regarding the new comers. "I could swear that these people are conspiring," remarked the laundress. "You are dreaming, my dear. I have but just met the girl on the stairs. Why should you become suspicious because a brother visits his sister?" "That a brother should visit a sister causes me no surprise, but there are queer kinds of brothers and queer ways of paying visits. Will you believe that the sister denied to me yesterday that her brother was with her?" "Rosa, that is indeed strange," remarked the sergeant pensively. "I do not like Louis Pierre. He is capable of anything." "Well, my little Rosa, stop your gossip. I don't suppose danger is being plotted. Neither the King nor Princes are in the castle; as for the Duchess, she is a saint whom no one would harm. What amazes me is the resemblance of the girl to the dead Queen." "She is a live bird, I'll warrant," answered the woman. While this dialogue was in progress, the blond girl in black rapidly crossed several streets and reached a deserted square shaded by elm trees. She was almost immediately joined by a man with whom she walked for some distance, entering at last the beginning of a park by a path which skirted the wall. The man consulted from time to time a paper plan which he carried in his hands. He stopped suddenly and examined a breach in the wall. "Louis Pierre was right," he said. He vaulted the fence and held forth his arms for the girl, who, crawling along the ruins, came within his reach. Taking her by the waist, he held her for a moment against his breast and spoke passionate words of love. "Amélie!" he whispered, "when will you become mine for all time? I adore you more than ever." "René, I long for it as much as you. But O the saddest of presentiments weighs upon me. My father's mind seems giving way beneath the weight of his sorrows. His reason is clouded and confused. If his sister does not open her arms today, alas for him, alas for us! And she will not; this interview is part of an infernal plot--" "Amélie, you express my fears also. But none of your father's friends are sleeping on their oars. Louis Pierre knows every inch of ground on this place. We are here to defend the cause, he, Giacinto and I. 'Twould have been better had you not come."