"Oh, Citizen Bonaparte," he ended, "I am sorely tempted to go away with you and join the army! I want to fight for better things for France. This is not liberty, here in Paris! It is oppression and butchery! But I dare not leave yet! I feel that I have a sacred trust to fulfil! Yet all has gone wrong! Moufflet is stolen and I shall never see him again. We are constantly in danger from that spying Coudert; it was only yesterday that I saw him again sneaking about our street! To help the royal family seems utterly impossible. And now you are going to leave me too,--you who once saved my life, and to whom I can never be grateful enough!" "I am sorry, little Jean! I truly am!" answered his friend. "Many things call me away, but cheer up! The tide will turn, and there is no telling what you may yet do--or what I may yet be! I tell you I believe in my fortunate star! But one thing I will say to you, my lad. You have a brave loyal spirit, than which I admire nothing more heartily. I like you, and I will surely come back some day,--and who knows what we may yet do together! Au revoir now! Be true to your trust, and don't forget the friend you once made by butting him flat on his back!" Jean could not even answer. He seized the young man's hands, kissed them passionately, and with a sob fled down one of the long, green alleys of the Jardin. Could he have guessed how long it would be before he and this thin young man with the marvellous eyes should meet again, his despair would have been deeper yet. But that also was guarded with the secret of the future! ENTER THE COBBLER,--EXIT THE KING CHAPTER VI ENTER THE COBBLER,--EXIT THE KING The warm September sun shone dazzlingly on the pavement before the _buvette_ or tavern of Père Lefèvre. This shop was situated in the outer courtyard of the Temple Tower, and enjoyed the trade of all the soldiers, guards and commissaries employed in guarding the imprisoned king and his family. Père Lefèvre sat in a chair outside the door, nodding in the sunshine, for it was mid-afternoon and trade was dull. Presently through the great gate and down the courtyard strolled a boy, whistling vigorously the "Ça ira!" He was a little over twelve years of age, strong and long-limbed. His eyes and hair were black, and his curls were surmounted by a red liberty-cap. Such a racket did he make, that Père Lefèvre was awakened from his nap. "Good afternoon, Citizen!" said the boy. "You look comfortable and happy! Business must be pretty poor to give you so much leisure!" "Business is good enough, most of the time!" snapped Père Lefèvre. "I'm rushed to death in the morning and evening. Just now, however, the soldiers are all on duty, and it is not the hour for the commissaries' visit." "Why don't you get someone to help you?" inquired the boy. "At your age it is not good for the health to get about so lively!"