der the archways of doors or in one
of the market halls, among the darners and old-clothes menders, where he
found many a young recruit starting for the front and wanting to leave
his likeness behind for his sweetheart. But these petty tasks cost him
endless pains, and he was a long way from making as good portraits as he
did dancing-dolls. Sometimes, too, he acted as amanuensis for the
Market dames, but this meant mixing himself up in Royalist plots, and
the risks were heavy. He remembered there lived in the Rue
Neuve-des-Petits-Champs, near the erstwhile Place Vendome, another
toy-merchant, Joly by name, and he resolved to go next day to offer him
the goods the chicken-hearted Caillou had declined.

A fine rain began to fall. Brotteaux who feared its effects on his
marionettes, quickened his pace. As he crossed the Pont-Neuf and was
turning the corner of the Place de Thionville, he saw by the light of a
street-lamp, sitting on a stone post, a lean old man who seemed utterly
exhausted with fatigue and hunger, but still preserved his venerable
appearance. He was dressed in a tattered surtout, had no hat and
appeared over sixty. Approaching the poor wretch, Brotteaux recognised
the Pere Longuemare, the same he had saved from hanging six months
before while both of them were waiting in queue in front of the bakery
in the Rue de Jerusalem. Feeling bound to the monk by the service he had
already done him, Brotteaux stepped up to him and made himself known as
the publican who had stood beside him among the common herd, one day of
great scarcity, and asked him if he could not be of some use to him.

"You seem wearied, Father. Take a taste of cordial,"--and Brotteaux drew
from the pocket of his plum-coloured coat a flask of brandy, which lay
there alongside his Lucretius.

"Drink. And I will help you to get back to your house."

The Pere Longuemare pushed away the flask with his hand and tried to
rise, but only to fall back again in his seat.

"Sir," he said in a weak but firm voice, "for three months I have been
living at Picpus. Being warned they had come to arrest me at my lodging,
yesterday at five o'clock of the afternoon, I did not return home. I
have no place to go to; I am wandering the streets and am a little
fatigued."

"Very well, Father," proposed Brotteaux, "do me the honour to share my
garret."

"Sir," replied the Barnabite, "you know, I suppose, I am a suspect."

"I am one too," said Brotteaux, "and my