had the privilege of seeing
you."

With a cheer for Danton, the patrol marched away. I was about to thank
Danton, when his name was called repeatedly within.

"Pardon me, my friend," he said; "you hear? There is my hand; I must leave
you--the left. I gave my right to the sergeant. Who knows, the good
patriot may have scrofula?"

"I'm coming!" he exclaimed, addressing those within in his mighty voice
with which he could pacify or arouse the masses. He hastened into the
house.

I remained standing at the door, alone with my unknown.

"And now, my lady," I said, "whither would you have me escort you? I am at
your disposal."

"Why, to Mme. Ledieu," she said with a laugh. "I told you she was my
mother."

"And where does Mme. Ledieu reside?"

"Rue Ferou, 24."

"Then, let us proceed to Rue Ferou, 24."

On the way neither of us spoke a word. But by the light of the moon,
enthroned in serene glory in the sky, I was able to observe her at my
leisure. She was a charming girl of twenty or twenty-two--brunette, with
large blue eyes, more expressive of intelligence than melancholy--a finely
chiseled nose, mocking lips, teeth of pearl, hands like a queen's, and
feet like a child's; and all these, in spite of her costume of a
laundress, betokened an aristocratic air that had aroused the sergeant's
suspicions not without justice.

Arrived at the door of the house, we looked at each other a moment in
silence.

"Well, my dear M. Albert, what do you wish?" my fair unknown asked with a
smile.

"I was about to say, my dear Mlle. Solange, that it was hardly worth while
to meet if we are to part so soon."

"Oh, I beg ten thousand pardons! I find it was well worth the while; for
if I had not met you, I should have been dragged to the guard-house, and
there it would have been discovered that I am not the daughter of Mme.
Ledieu--in fact, it would have developed that I am an aristocrat, and in
all likelihood they would have cut off my head."

"You admit, then, that you are an aristocrat?"

"I admit nothing."

"At least you might tell me your name."

"Solange."

"I know very well that this name, which I gave you on the inspiration of
the moment, is not your right name."

"No matter; I like it, and I am going to keep it--at least for you."

"Why should you keep it for me? if we are not to meet again?"

"I did not say that. I only said that if we should meet again it will not
be necessary for you to know my name any m