s my patron."

"Oh!" said De Loignac, a little mollified at this name, "well, search
again."

They turned to their pockets again, and began to re-examine them.

"Why, what do I see there, on the sleeve of that blockhead?" said De
Loignac.

"Yes, yes!" cried the father. "I remember, now, Lardille sewed it on."

"That you might carry something, I suppose, you great lazy fellow."

The card was looked at and found all right, and the family passed on in
the same order as before.

The fourth man advanced and gave his name as Chalabre. It was found
correct, and he also entered.

Then came M. de Carmainges. He got off his horse and presented his card,
while the page hid his face by pretending to adjust the saddle.

"The page belongs to you?" asked De Loignac.

"You see, he is attending to my horse."

"Pass, then."

"Quick, my master," said the page.

Behind these men the door was closed, much to the discontent of the
crowd. Robert Briquet, meanwhile, had drawn near to the porter's lodge,
which had two windows, one looking toward Paris and the other into the
country. From this post he saw a man, who, coming from Paris at full
gallop, entered the lodge and said, "Here I am, M. de Loignac."

"Good. Where do you come from?"

"From the Porte St. Victor."

"Your number?"--"Five."

"The cards?"

"Here they are."

De Loignac took them, examined them, and wrote on a slate the number
five. The messenger left, and two others appeared, almost immediately.
One came from the Porte Bourdelle, and brought the number four, the
other from the Porte du Temple, and announced six. Then came four
others. The first from the Porte St. Denis, with the number five; the
next from the Porte St. Jacques, with the number three; the third from
the Porte St. Honore, with the number eight; and the fourth from the
Porte Montmartre, with the number four. Lastly came a messenger, from
the Porte Bussy, who announced four. De Loignac wrote all these down,
added them to those who had entered the Porte St. Antoine, and found the
total number to be forty-five.

"Good!" said he. "Now open the gates, and all may enter."

The gates were thrown open, and then horses, mules, and carts, men,
women, and children, pressed into Paris, at the risk of suffocating each
other, and in a quarter of an hour all the crowd had vanished.

Robert Briquet remained until the last. "I have seen enough," said he:
"would it be very advantageous to me to see M. Sal