It must not, however, be supposed that the royal sufferers had no friends, that they were abandoned by all. Many royalists in the same city yet remained alive after the massacre of September, and would have laid down their lives to save the monarch they had never renounced. But they were overwhelmingly outnumbered by their enemies and rendered practically helpless. And even the good Republicans deemed this an outrage on personal liberty and deplored it, but the Terror kept them silent. Outside of Paris, whole sections of France still declared for the king. One especially, La Vendée, was engaged in raising an army to defend his cause. Meanwhile, mob-ruled Paris held him in the very heart of her, helpless, a prisoner, condemned to die! Jean never forgot that dreadful day! 'Twas early in the morning, and the tavern was crowded. In the courtyard stood the carriage waiting for the doomed monarch, while all pressed close to the doors and windows to see the better. Simon, the cobbler, harangued the crowd in his strident voice, and bade them rejoice that they were at last to be rid of so great a tyrant. A roll of drums announced the coming of the fallen monarch. He crossed the courtyard on foot, pale but erect, calm and brave. Twice he turned and looked back toward the Tower, in farewell to all he held dear. At the entrance gate he stepped into the carriage and the door was shut. A great shout led by Simon went up from all but Jean. The cobbler, noticing his silence, grasped him by the collar. "Shout, you monkey! Rejoice for the death of Capet! What? Are you a royalist?" he hissed. Jean did not dare to disobey. With a bursting heart, he snatched off his liberty-cap, threw it in the air, and cried: "Vive la République!" Simon, satisfied, let him go. He darted through the crowd unnoticed, and running madly, sought his home in the Rue de Lille. There on good Mère Clouet's broad bosom he sobbed out his shame and sorrow for hours, and did not return to the tavern that day. At quarter past ten o'clock, a dreadful shout rang out from the Place de la Révolution, mingled with the ringing of bells and the booming of cannon. Louis XVI was no more! Paris congratulated herself that at last she was rid of monarchy. But back in the Tower, a little frightened lad wept and shuddered on his mother's bosom,--a throneless, crownless boy-king, called Louis XVII of France! THE SCHEME OF THE BARON DE BATZ CHAPTER VII THE SCHEME OF THE BARON DE BATZ "If we could only find someone among the _sans-culottes_ where they could hide over one night,--someone who is at heart a sympathiser! That is all wanting to perfect the plan!"