“Poor fool,” he muttered, “it is not for the sake of what you are to her. Were it for that alone, you would not stir a finger to gratify her wishes. It is for the sake of what she is to you, Caron.” He turned from the mirror, his resolve now firm, and going to the door he called his official. Briefly he instructed Brutus touching the packing of a valise, which he would probably need that night. “You are going a journey, Citizen?” inquired Brutus, to which La Boulaye returned a short answer in the affirmative. “Do I accompany you?” inquired the official, to which La Boulaye shook his head. At that Brutus, who, for all his insolence of manner, was very devotedly attached to his employer, broke into remonstrances, impertinent of diction but affectionate of tenor. He protested that La Boulaye had left him behind, and lonely, during his mission to the army in Belgium, and he vowed that he would not be left behind again. “Well, well; we shall see, Brutus,” answered the Deputy, laying his hand upon the fellow's shoulder. “But I am afraid that this time I am going farther than you would care to come.” The man's ferrety eyes were raised of a sudden to La Boulaye's face in a very searching glance. Caron's tone had been laden with insinuation. “You are running way,” cried the official. “Sh! My good Brutus, what folly! Why should I run away--and from whom, pray?” “I know not that. But you are. I heard it in your voice. And you do not trust me, Citizen La Boulaye,” the fellow added, in a stricken voice. “I have served you faithfully these two years, and yet you have not learnt to trust me.” “I do, I do, my friend. You go too fast with your conclusions. Now see to my valise, and on my return perhaps I'll tell you where I am going, and put your fidelity to the test.” “And you will take me with you?” “Why, yes,” La Boulaye promised him, “unless you should prefer to remain in Paris.” With that he got away and leaving the house, he walked briskly up the street, round the corner, and on until he stood once more before Duplay's. “Has the Citizen Robespierre departed yet?” he inquired of the woman who answered his peremptory knock. “He has been gone this hour, Citizen La Boulaye,” she answered. “He started almost immediately after you left him.” “Diable!” grumbled Caron, with well-feigned annoyance. “Quel contretemps! I have left a most important document in his room, and, of course, it will be locked.” “But the Citoyenne Cecile has the key,” answered the woman, eager to oblige him. “Why, yes--naturally! Now that is fortunate. Will you do me the favour to procure the key from he Citoyenne for a few moments, telling her, of course, that it is I who need it?” “But certainly, Montez, Citoyen.” And with a wave of the hand towards the stairs she went before him.