For many minutes Jean stood there in the darkness, striving to collect his thoughts. What _was_ he to do! Circumstance having thus opened the way for him, combining his safety with one of his most cherished wishes, it was an almost irresistible temptation to flee from Paris, seek out his hero and friend in Marseilles, and become a soldier of France. It was a situation that would have tested the courage and loyalty of many an older and more experienced mind. But turn and twist it as he would, the position admitted of one outcome only, for him. Did he take good Citizen Prevôt's advice and escape before morning, what would be the inevitable result? Simply this--that Mère Clouet and Yvonne would be suspected of complicity with him, and _they_ would, without doubt, take his place in one of the overflowing prisons. That they should suffer while he went scot-free was unthinkable. And of course they could not all attempt to escape,--that would mean certain apprehension with its inevitable results. On the other hand, did he stand his ground, go about his usual duties to-morrow and accept his arrest as if innocent, there was one chance in a hundred that he might be so considered, and ultimately set free. And even at the worst, no matter what happened to him, Mère Clouet and Yvonne would probably escape suspicion. Then there was one other consideration,--the dead Queen's little book of prayers that he held concealed, in trust for her misused son. That must be delivered at all cost, and in order to facilitate this he must go on to the Rue de Lille and entrust it to Yvonne. No!--the longer he thought about it, the plainer his duty became. He must accept with the best grace possible what fate had in store for him, execute the mission that had been entrusted to him, and see that no harm came through him, to those who stood for all the family that he could claim in this world. Once arrived at this conclusion, his heart actually felt lighter. With all due gratitude to Prevôt, he hurried home, determined to act on the morrow as though in complete ignorance of what awaited him. But when he reached the Rue de Lille, it was with a very grave face. So unlike his usual gay self was he, that Mère Clouet was alarmed. Jean, however, told her nothing. He ate his late supper, fed Moufflet, and tried hard to act as though all were as usual. But when the Citizeness Clouet had left the room for a time, Jean drew Yvonne aside and took her into his confidence. "Do not tell good Mère Clouet yet," he ended. "She must go to-morrow with the laundry, and I want her to know nothing, till afterward!" Poor little Yvonne grew white with terror. "Oh, Jean," she whispered, "nothing must happen to you! We love you so! How could we live without you!"