"Thanks, my brave Municipal," said the flower-girl, "a thousand thanks."
And she went toward another couple, trusting the day commenced thus auspiciously would so continue till its close. During this apparently simple scene, which had only occupied a few seconds at most, Morand seemed scarcely able to support himself, and wiped the perspiration from his pallid brow, while Geneviève also turned pale and trembled. She took the nosegay which Maurice presented to her, and clasping it in her lovely hand, held it to her face, less to inhale the odor than to conceal her emotion.
The remainder of the journey was pleasant, at least so far as concerned Maurice. As for Geneviève, her gayety seemed affected, and Morand evinced his enjoyment in a fashion peculiar to himself,—that is to say, in smothered sighs or startling bursts of laughter, and occasionally uttering some formidable witticisms which fell upon the passers-by like sparks of fire.
At nine o'clock they reached the Temple.
Santerre called over the municipals.
"I am here," said Maurice, leaving Geneviève under the care of Morand.
"Welcome," said Santerre, holding out his hand to the young man.
Maurice took care not to refuse the hand thus offered to him. The friendship of Santerre was certainly most valuable at this epoch. At sight of this man who had commanded the famous rolling of drums, Geneviève shuddered, and Morand turned pale.
"Who is this lovely citizeness?" demanded Santerre of Maurice, "and what does she here?"
"She is the wife of the brave Citizen Dixmer; you have heard this excellent patriot spoken of, Citizen General?"