that you should walk on with
Virginie. I will follow with Jeanne a hundred yards behind, so
that I can keep you in sight, and will come up if anyone should
accost you."

Marie at once rose, and taking the child's hand set out. They had
to traverse the greater part of Paris to reach their destination.
It was a trial for Marie, who had never before been in the streets
of Paris except with her mother and closely followed by two domestics,
and even then only through the quiet streets of a fashionable
quarter. However, she went steadily forward, tightly holding
Virginie's hand and trying to walk as if accustomed to them in the
thick heavy shoes which felt so strangely different to those which
she was in the habit of wearing.

From time to time she addressed an encouraging word to Virginie
as she felt her shrink as they approached groups of men lounging
outside the wine-shops, for there was but little work done in Paris,
and the men of the lower class spent their time in idleness, in
discussions of the events of the day, or in joining the mobs which,
under one pretext or another, kept the streets in an uproar.

Fortunately Marie knew the way perfectly and there was no occasion
for her to ask for directions, for she had frequently driven with
her mother to visit Louise Moulin. The latter occupied the upper
floor of a house in a quiet quarter near the fortifications in the
north-western part of the town. A message had been sent to her the
night before, and she was on the look-out for her visitors, but
she did not recognize them, and she uttered a cry of surprise as
Marie and Virginie entered the room.

"Is it you, mademoiselle?" she exclaimed in great surprise. "And
you, my little angel? My eyes must be getting old, indeed, that I
did not recognize you; but you are finely disguised. But where is
Mademoiselle Jeanne?"

"She will be here in a moment, Louise; she is just behind. But you
must not call me mademoiselle; you must remember that we are your
nieces Marie and Jeanne, and that you are our aunt Louise Moulin,
whom we have come to stay with."

"I shall remember in time," the old woman said. "I have been
talking about you to my neighbours for the last week, of how your
good father and mother have died, and how you were going to journey
to Paris under the charge of a neighbour, who was bringing a waggon
load of wine from Burgundy, and how you were going to look after
me and help me in the house since I am getting o