"Thou art bewigged like a royal courtier!" growled the cobbler, passing his rough hand over the silky curls. "'Tis little like a good Republican's head. This must go!" With a huge pair of shears, he hacked into the thick hair with great, jagged strokes. In a few moments the curls all lay on the floor, and Louis Charles stood like a shorn lamb, heartbroken but tearless, before his tormentor. Then the cobbler took his charge down to the courtyard for his daily breath of fresh air. Some of the soldiers, at the sight of the poor, ill-cropped head, laughed immoderately. Only one commissary, Meunier, said regretfully: "Why have you hacked off all the hair that was so becoming, Simon?" "Oh, don't you see! We are playing at a game of despoiling kings!" chuckled Simon. Again the soldiers laughed. The child, always peculiarly sensitive to mockery, hung his head and turned away, losing all desire to run about with his football. He was glad when Simon took him in again. That night the cobbler made him drink two glasses of bad wine. As he had heretofore never touched anything but water, it made him stupid and heavy. Perhaps he did not quite understand what was happening. Perhaps his spirit was at last beginning to break. But, at any rate, when Simon said to him: "Now here's your nice red cap! Put it on!" the boy, worn out with struggling, yielded at last. "Ah! Now thou art a true _sans-culotte_!" cried Simon in triumph. And he crowned the shorn head of Louis XVII with the badge of the Commune! HOW YVONNE SAW THE KING CHAPTER IX HOW YVONNE SAW THE KING Meantime, Jean in the tavern had not been idle. His quick eyes, keen ears and alert wits were ever on the watch. During the past month he had made a friend, and hatched a little scheme of his own. The friend was Citizen Barelle, one of the many and ever-changing commissaries of the Tower. Barelle often came into the little tavern after his duties for the day were over, and not infrequently Jean heard him speak with sincere regret of the present condition of the wretched little monarch and his brutal tutor. These remarks made Jean feel certain that Barelle possessed not only a kindly heart and quickly aroused sympathies, but that he would also be easily disposed to render the necessary help. He resolved to take this man at least partially into his confidence. Therefore when a favourable opportunity presented itself one afternoon, and he had Barelle to himself in the little eating-room, he opened the subject cautiously. "Citizen Barelle, I see you are a friend of the little fellow over yonder! So am I!" Barelle showed some astonishment at this disclosure. He replied: