In the midst of the tumult which we have attempted to describe, Coursegol was troubled, not so much by the impatience of Dolores as by the doubts that beset him when he thought of Bridoul. He had not seen the latter for three years. He only knew that his comrade, on quitting the army, had purchased a wine merchant's establishment; but, on hearing that his former friend sold his merchandise at the sign of the Bonnet Rouge, he asked himself in alarm if he would not find, instead of a friend, a rabid patriot who would refuse to come to the aid of the ex-servant of a Marquis. These reflections had made him silent and anxious until now; but, finding his progress checked by the crowd, the thought of inquiring the cause of this excitement occurred to him. Addressing a man who was standing a few steps from him, and who, judging from his impassive features, seemed not to share the emotions of which he was a witness, Coursegol inquired: "What is going on, my friend?" "What is going on!" replied the stranger, not without bitterness. "They are carrying the head of the Princesse de Lamballe through the streets of Paris!" Coursegol could not repress a movement of horror and of pity. On several occasions, when he had accompanied Philip to the house of the Duke de Penthieore, he had seen the Princess who had befriended his young master. At the same time, the thought that Dolores might be obliged to witness such a horrible exhibition frightened him, and he resolved to find some way to spare the girl the shameful spectacle that the eager crowd was awaiting. Suddenly Dolores, who had been standing on the same spot for some time, discovered that the soil beneath her feet had become wet and slippery, and, turning to Coursegol, she said: "I am standing in water." Coursegol drew back and forced the crowd to give way a trifle, so Dolores could have a little more standing-room. Thanks to his exertions, she could breathe once more; but, chancing to look down upon the ground, she uttered an exclamation of consternation. "Blood! It is blood!" she exclaimed, in horror. Coursegol's eyes followed hers. She was not mistaken. She was standing in a pool of blood, and not far off lay a body that the crowd had trampled upon only a few moments before. "But where are we?" murmured the terrified Coursegol. The man to whom he had previously spoken drew a little nearer and said: "You are, perhaps, a hundred paces from the prison where they executed the prisoners scarcely an hour ago." Then, drawing still nearer, so that no one save Coursegol could hear him, he added: "Advise that young girl not to cry out again as she did just now. If some of these fanatics had heard her, she would have fared badly!"