"It is not likely she was drowned," said the Chevalier gravely.
"Someone must have been about, to save her. Do not be discouraged,
Mademoiselle, if our search for Louise takes several days. We are
without a clew--groping, like her, in the dark. But we shall find her,
never fear!"

The confident words gave tiny comfort to the elder girl as he bade his
adieux in the parlor of the respectable lodging house he had found for
her--the same caravansary (had they but known it) that housed the then
obscure Maximilien Robespierre.

She strove to thank him for his kindness when he interrupted her:
"Don't thank _me_, Mademoiselle, I owe _you_ a debt of gratitude, for
you have restored to me ideals sweet as childhood!"

Unconsciously the young people standing there, drew closer to one
another until their lips met. Each was almost too astonished for
words. Fine breeding came to de Vaudrey's aid. He apologized--and
promised not to let it happen again!

Sincerity spoke in the young man's earnest eyes and his respectful
kiss of her small hand at parting.

Was indeed this youthful cynic transformed by the flower-like
influence of the girl?

He went away all eagerness to pursue the lost sister's quest,
promising that no stone--police or other--should be left unturned in
the search.

* * * * *

And here--where the orphans' eventful epoch becomes entwined with the
lives of the great and with the darkening storm and impending passion
of the Revolution--it is well to acquaint our readers further with the
de Vaudreys.

Count de Linieres of Touraine had been married--many years before the
date of this story--to Mlle. de Vaudrey, the heiress of a great
fortune. A skeleton ('twas rumored) rattled in the Vaudrey closet.
Certainly there was heritage of hates as well as gold.

A tenant Jean Setain, who came to the Paris mansion to pay his rent,
made a scene. He told of the cruelties long ago inflicted on his
father by the Countess' father--for some trifling trespass on
seigniorage, _boiling lead in the unfortunate's veins_--and the angry
Count, after a stern rebuke, had him ejected. Jacques-Forget-Not (such
was his queer nickname) departed, vowing vengeance.

Having ample wealth, the Count desired preferment. The post of
Minister of Police was a steppingstone. He accepted it whilst visions
of a grand alliance for his nephew, Chevalier de Vaudrey, pointed to
dukedom or even princely rank as