me held three of the soundest sleepers in all France.

The knocking continued, and mine host, feigning a great yawn, took down
his key and asked who was there.

"Citoyen Picquot, open to the National Guard."

The door opened, and half-a-dozen soldiers trooped into the shop.

"Produce your lodgers," demanded the soldier in command.

"I have but three, citizen soldier. Follow me, they shall be at your
service."

The officer followed my host upstairs; the others remained below.
Presently I heard a loud outcry and scuffling of feet above, and a
shouted word of command. The soldiers instantly rushed up the stairs.

But no speed of theirs could equal that with which I darted from my
hiding-place and out at the open door into the street, thanking Heaven
that whatever rats might be caught that night in the Rue d'Agnes I was
not one of them.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"VIVE LA GUILLOTINE!"

It was midnight when I got clear of the Auberge "a l'Irlandois" in the
Rue d'Agnes, and being a fine, warm autumn night I was by no means the
only occupant of the street. This was fortunate for me, for the guards
posted at either end would have been more inquisitive as to a solitary
stranger than one of a company of noisy idlers.

That night there had been a great performance in one of the theatres in
Paris, which had lasted far into the night, and was only lately over.
Those I overheard speak of it said it had been a great patriotic
spectacle, in the course of which National Guards and cadets had marched
across the stage, unfurling the banner of the Republic, and taking the
oath of the people amid scenes of wild enthusiasm and shouting. To add
to the enthusiasm of the occasion a party of real volunteers had
appeared, and after receiving the three-coloured cockade from their
sweethearts, had shouldered their guns and marched, singing the
Marseillaise, straight from the theatre to the road for La Vendue, where
they were going to shed their blood for their country.

The audience had risen, waving hats and handkerchiefs to bid them God-
speed, and then poured forth into the streets, shouting the chorus, and
cheering till they were hoarse and tired.

It was into a party of such loyal revellers that I found myself sucked
before I was half-way out of the Rue d'Agnes; and yelling and shouting
at the top of my voice I passed safely the guards, and reached the broad
Rue Saint Honore. Here the crowd gradually dispersed, some one way,