"You know, little king," he said, "that much as we love you, we cannot keep you always here. That would not be safe or right for you. Other kind though unknown friends have your interests at heart, and are coming to-night to take you to a place of greater safety." "Oh, Jean," replied the frightened boy, "I do not want to leave you! I wish to stay here! There is no one now in the whole world that I really love besides my sister and yourselves. Why must I leave you? Where will they take me?" "You will be in care of kindly people, that I am sure, though I do not know whom, nor do I know where you will be taken. But always you will have freedom and the best of care. Perhaps some day you will come back to live in Paris, when these troubled times are over. That will be a happy event to look forward to!" "But my sister!" persisted the boy. "She is yet in the Tower. When will she be free also? When can I see her?" "There is a rumour abroad that she will soon be released and sent to the court of Austria, in return for certain important prisoners that the Austrians have lately captured from us. Perhaps you will be permitted to join her sometime, at your cousin's court." Louis Charles sat a long while, thinking it over. "I suppose it must be so," he said at last, "since it is best. But I shall be very, very lonely! May I have a pair of scissors?" Jean opened his eyes at this strange request, but he procured a pair from the other room. Louis Charles took them, raised them to his head, and cut off three of his soft curls. "This is for you, Jean!" he said. "It is all I have to give you. And these are for Madame Clouet and Yvonne. And now, there is one thing more that I wish you to do for me. I had thought to take the little Moufflet with me, and never, never part from him. But now I have decided that I shall give him to my sister, since she is soon to be free. She will perhaps be as lonely as I am and I want her to have something that will give her pleasure and remind her of me! Will you do this for me, Jean?" The older boy was almost overwhelmed at the little fellow's generosity, knowing well what pain it must cost him to part again with the pet he had so lately recovered, and which was the sole remaining object that could remind him of happier days. "I will surely do this, little friend!" answered Jean, and his voice shook as he spoke. "And we will all wait, watch, and look forward to the time when you may come back to us!" "No one will look forward to it more than I," said the boy, "and yet something tells me that I shall never come back! But at least I shall never, never forget you, and all that you have suffered and sacrificed for my sake! And, Jean, neither will I ever forget that day in the attic room,--you know which one I mean!" Jean nodded. It was the only time that Louis Charles had ever since alluded to his mother, or to his great grief at the news of her death. He kept his sorrow locked always tightly in his own breast.