At that very moment, the crowd resumed its march. The man disappeared. When Coursegol, agitated by these horrors which were so new to him, turned again to speak to Dolores, he saw that she had fainted in his arms. The poor man glanced despairingly about him. Suddenly his eyes fell upon a sign hanging over a shop on the opposite side of the street. This sign represented a red Phrygian cap upon a white ground, and above it was written in large red letters: "Le Bonnet Rouge." For a quarter of an hour he had been standing directly opposite Bridoul's establishment. He uttered a cry of joy, lifted Dolores in his strong arms, and, in a stentorian voice, exclaimed: "Make way! Make way, good citizens! My daughter has fainted!" The Provencale costume worn by Dolores deceived the persons who would otherwise have impeded Coursegol's progress. "He is from Marseilles," some one cried. Just at that time the Marseillais were heroes in the eyes of all good patriots. The unusual height of Coursegol strengthened the illusion. "Yes," remarked another, "he is one of the Marseillais who have come to the aid of the Parisians." The crowd opened before him. He soon reached the shop over which hung the sign of the "Bonnet Rouge" and entered it. There were but few customers in the large saloon. He placed Dolores in a chair, ran to the counter, seized a glass of water, returned to the girl and bathed her forehead and temples. In a moment she opened her eyes. "My dear child, are you better?" he asked. "Yes, yes, my good Coursegol," replied Dolores. Then she added: "Yes, father, but I was terribly frightened." "The citoyenne was crushed in the crowd!" said a voice behind Coursegol. He turned and saw a woman who was still young. Suddenly he recollected that Bridoul was married. "Are you not Citoyenne Bridoul?" he asked. "Certainly, Cornelia Bridoul." "Where is your husband?" "Here he is." Bridoul appeared. He had followed his wife in order to see the young Provencale who had been brought into his shop. "Do you know me?" inquired Coursegol. "Can it be Coursegol?" "Yes; I am your brother-in-law; this young girl is your niece. We have just arrived from Beaucaire. I will explain everything by and by." Bridoul cast a hasty glance around him. No one was observing them. The few who had been sitting at the table had risen and gone to the door, attracted there by the increasing tumult without. "Take the young lady into the back room," Bridoul whispered to his wife. "There will be a crowd here in a moment."