"Tell me all about my mother!" Jean felt that the time had at last arrived when it was expedient to conceal the facts no longer. Summoning all his courage, he replied softly: "She is dead!" "And my aunt?" "She is also dead!" "And my sister?" pursued the relentless voice. "She is alive and safe here in the Tower!" For a moment the blow seemed too stupendous. The stricken child sat almost stunned. Then the catechism recommenced. "How long has my mother been dead?" "A year and a half!" "And my aunt?" "Just one year!" "And they never told me?" "They did not have the heart!" said Jean gently. This reply broke the ice of the little fellow's grief. Tears came to his relief, and he threw himself on the bed sobbing quietly. The struggle was long and severe, and Jean left him to the sacredness of his sorrow unmolested. When the storm of sobs grew less and the tears had ceased, Jean took him in his big, brawny arms and comforted him almost as one would a tired baby. Then to divert his thoughts for a while, he told him all his experiences on the night of his first visit to the Brotherhood of Liberation, for this he had been permitted to do if he chose. The child's interest was at first languid, but gradually grew intense as the tale advanced. When Jean recounted how he had been branded and sworn into the circle, Louis took in his own hands the branded palm of the older boy. "And you went through all this for me?" he said in wonder. "Then will I never, never forget you, and I shall love you always, as I would my own brother!" Stooping, he bent his head and touched the scar with his gentle lips! In all his life, Jean never forgot that moment! THE LAST MOVE CHAPTER XVI THE LAST MOVE On the night of the tenth of May, Jean attended a meeting of the Brotherhood. He expected nothing unusual to happen, and was prepared only to give an account of the little King's welfare during the last few days. He entered as usual, and found the great room full of masked figures. But one place remained vacant, and he slipped into it two minutes before the command for unmasking. In these two minutes he glanced at his right-hand companion, finding something vaguely familiar in the short, slight figure. Then came the order to unmask, and a second later Jean gave a little cry of joy and astonishment, for at his right hand sat his former well-beloved friend, Napoleon Bonaparte! Lean and sallow and poorly clad as ever, but with the same hauntingly brilliant eyes, it was as though not more than a day had passed since they last met. Bonaparte expressed a similar astonishment at beholding Jean, but the business-meeting being in full swing, they could exchange no more than a hearty hand-clasp under the table. But when the meeting was dismissed, Bonaparte invited Jean to walk home to his lodgings with him, and talk over their long period of separation.