"But, Citizen," quickly rejoined the unknown, "I, as well as you, love the Republic; you labor under a mistake concerning me."
"Then, Citizeness, if you are a good patriot, you can have no cause for concealment. Where do you come from?"
"Monsieur, excuse me."
There was in this "monsieur" so much sweetness and modesty of expression, that Maurice believed it to be founded on some sentiment concealed.
"Surely," said he, "this woman is returning from some assignation."
At this moment, without knowing why, he felt deeply oppressed at this thought, and for a short time he remained silent.
When these two nocturnal promenaders had reached the Rue de la Verrerie, after having encountered three or four patrols, who, thanks to the password, allowed them free passage, the last watchman appeared somewhat suspicious. Maurice found it necessary to give his name and residence.
"That is all that is required from you," said the officer; "but the citizeness, who is she?"
"The sister of my wife."
The officer permitted them to pass.