the other, Jean's
instinct told him they would have less difficulty in getting by it. It
was completely evacuated, indeed, and the Versailles troops had not
yet entered it. The abandoned guns were resting in the embrasures in
peaceful slumber, the only living thing behind that invincible rampart
was a stray dog, that scuttled away in haste. But as Jean was making
what speed he could along the Rue Saint-Florentin, sustaining Maurice,
whose strength was giving out, that which he had been in fear of came to
pass; they fell directly into the arms of an entire company of the 88th
of the line, which had turned the barricade.

"Captain," he explained, "this is a comrade of mine, who has just been
wounded by those bandits. I am taking him to the hospital."

It was then that the capote which he had thrown over Maurice's
shoulders stood them in good stead, and Jean's heart was beating like
a trip-hammer as at last they turned into the Rue Saint-Honore. Day
was just breaking, and the sound of shots reached their ears from the
cross-streets, for fighting was going on still throughout the quartier.
It was little short of a miracle that they finally reached the Rue des
Frondeurs without sustaining any more disagreeable adventure. Their
progress was extremely slow; the last four or five hundred yards
appeared interminable. In the Rue des Frondeurs they struck up against
a communist picket, but the federates, thinking a whole regiment was at
hand, took to their heels. And now they had but a short bit of the Rue
d'Argenteuil to traverse and they would be safe in the Rue des Orties.

For four long hours that seemed like an eternity Jean's longing desire
had been bent on that Rue des Orties with feverish impatience, and now
they were there it appeared like a haven of safety. It was dark, silent,
and deserted, as if there were no battle raging within a hundred leagues
of it. The house, an old, narrow house without a concierge, was still as
the grave.

"I have the keys in my pocket," murmured Maurice. "The big one opens the
street door, the little one is the key of my room, way at the top of the
house."

He succumbed and fainted dead away in Jean's arms, whose alarm and
distress were extreme. They made him forget to close the outer door,
and he had to grope his way up that strange, dark staircase, bearing
his lifeless burden and observing the greatest caution not to stumble or
make any noise that might arouse the sleeping inmates of th