"Yes, thank you, Monsieur!" he replied. And from that moment his heart went out to his new keeper. In a few days he was better. Kindness, care, decent food and the human society of some well-disposed person revived the flame of life that had all but flickered out in his long solitude. Citizen Laurent was by no means a royalist. On the contrary, his sympathies were entirely with the Republic. But his heart was so touched by the desperate plight of the little captive, that he resolved to render his condition as comfortable as possible. This had also been Barras's wish in placing him as guardian to the royal prisoner. Laurent himself was closely watched by the jealous municipals, and he could only be with the boy part of each day. Among other things, he decided that Louis Charles, to recover his health, must have exercise. So he sought, and finally obtained from Barras, permission to take him for an airing to the top of the Tower. The little king could hardly believe his senses! He was going to see the sky again, to hear bird-voices, to smell the scent of growing things! Too wonderful! Accompanied by Laurent and a guarding municipal, they made the ascent of the closely sentinelled stairs. The child, still weak and inactive, could hardly drag himself up the steps, anxious as he was to reach the top, so Laurent took him in his arms. It was a warm, delightful evening. The sun had scarcely set, and the birds were twittering their good-night in the trees beyond the Temple. Up from the street came the calls of vendors, the shouts of drivers, and occasionally the gay laugh of some child at play. The little prince listened to it all and his eyes filled with tears of joy to think that at last he was permitted to breathe again the free air of heaven and see the blessed light, even though it hurt his eyes a great deal, used as they had been only to semi-darkness. Releasing Laurent's hand, he wandered around by himself for a few moments. Suddenly he bent down with a low cry of pleasure. "See! See!" he cried, pointing, and Laurent looked down noticing only a few poor half-withered common little yellow flowers growing in the cracks of the stone walk. But the boy was on his hands and knees, gathering them eagerly. The short time of outing over, Laurent led him down, still clasping carefully the meagre little bouquet. At the door of the room on the third floor the boy stopped, pulling back at his keeper's hand with all his strength. Laurent understood! The boy wished to go in and see his mother whom he thought was still there. Poor child! He little knew that only his sister was shut up in that room. It pained Laurent to refuse him, but to grant the wish was not in his power. "You are mistaking the door, Monsieur Charles!" he said gently.