"They will also be safe!" he answered. And satisfied with this, the little fellow put his head down on Jean's shoulder, and cried long and softly in the sheer excess of his joy. Jean remained hidden with the boy for the next few days. He was supposed to be away on a leave of absence, so at the Tower his non-appearance was thus accounted for. During this time he warned Louis Charles that his position was a terribly dangerous one, and that he must keep absolutely quiet always, and not be afraid if he were left alone, for he, Jean, could not be with him all the time. After his horrible six months of solitude, however, this new departure had little terror for a boy so inured to suffering. He promised joyfully to do all that was required of him. "How long do you think it will be?" he asked. "I cannot tell," answered Jean, "but as long as that poor little chap in your place down there remains alive. And goodness knows, that won't be _very_ long, from the description they give of him!" Louis was genuinely interested in, and sorry for his counterpart. "Do not waste much sympathy on him, dear friend," said Jean. "He is long past knowing even that he suffers, and death will be to him also a welcome release. Rest assured too that he is having better care here than he would get in a charity hospital! But now I must go. Be quiet and contented, and do not fear! I will come again to you as soon as it is possible. Meanwhile here is food and drink for two days. Adieu!" And in some inexplicable manner Jean wriggled himself out of the absurdly small aperture, and closed the plank behind him. For nearly two months and a half, Louis Charles remained hidden at the top of the Tower, waiting till the sick child below should breathe his last. During this time Jean was his frequent companion, and his only one. The boy did his best to amuse the lonely little prisoner, telling him long stories about Moufflet, Yvonne, the good Mère Clouet, and also about his own imprisonment in the Conciergerie, and his remarkable escape. The eyesight of the two children grew like an owl's in this semi-darkness, and they found after a while that they could see each other quite well. On one occasion, after they had talked a long while and fallen into silence, Louis Charles suddenly asked his companion what day of the month it was. "The third of May, 1795," answered Jean, unsuspectingly. Louis was quiet for a while, apparently struggling with some thought or half illusive recollection. Presently a flash of joy illuminated his face. "Why! then it is my Aunt Elizabeth's birthday! How I wish I could go to her and give her my congratulations! But I suppose my mother will remember to do so for me!" "Yes, yes!" returned Jean, but the words almost choked him, and he could think of nothing further to say. Something about his actions aroused his companion's suspicions. Turning on him squarely, Louis Charles demanded: