hearts of tigers!" another replied.

A murmur of pity was heard as she passed, and some young men placed
themselves in her path in order to obtain a closer look at her. Not
until then did she note the sensation she had created. She became
embarrassed, and took a step backward as if to retire; but, at that very
moment, a lady, still young, in spite of the premature whiteness of her
locks, approached her and said:

"Why do you draw back, my child? Do we frighten you?"

"No, madame," replied Dolores; "but I am a stranger, and, finding,
myself alone among so many, I thought to retire to my own cell; but I
will gladly remain if you will act as my protectress."

"Take my arm, my dear. I will present you to my friends here. I am the
Marquise de Beaufort. And you?"

"My name is Dolores. I have neither father nor mother. The Marquis de
Chamondrin adopted me; and I was reared in his house as his own
daughter."

"The Marquis de Chamondrin? Why! his son Philip----"

"My adopted brother! You know him, madame?"

"He is one of my friends and often came to my salon--when I had a
salon," added the Marquise, smiling.

"Philip emigrated," remarked Dolores, "but unfortunately, he recently
returned to France. He, with several other gentlemen, attempted to save
the queen. He was with me, yesterday, when we were arrested; he, as an
Emigre; I, for giving him shelter."

This short explanation sufficed to awaken the liveliest sympathy among
her listeners. She was immediately surrounded and respectfully entreated
to accept certain comforts and delicacies that those who had money were
allowed to purchase for themselves. She refused these proffered
kindnesses; but remained until evening beside the Marquise de Beaufort,
who seemed to take an almost motherly interest in the young girl.

The days that followed were in no way remarkable; but Dolores was deeply
affected by scenes which no longer moved her companions. Every evening a
man entered, called several persons by name and handed them a folded
paper, a badly written and often illegible scrawl in which not even the
spelling of the names was correct, and which, consequently, not
unfrequently failed to reach the one for whom it was intended. This was
an act of accusation. The person who received it was allowed no time to
prepare his defence, but was compelled to appear before the
Revolutionary Tribunal the following day, and on that day or the next,
he was usually led forth to die.