"Pardon!" said the turnkey only, although he was the man who had been nearly overthrown.
Dixmer trembled at the sound of that sweet soft voice. But the turnkey was doubtless pressed for time; he glided into the passage, opened Richard's door, and disappeared. Dixmer continued his road, leading Geneviève.
"It is strange," said he, when outside and the gate had closed behind them, and the freshening breeze had cooled his fevered brow.
"Oh, yes, 'tis very strange!" murmured Geneviève.
In former times they would have communicated to each other the cause of their astonishment, but Dixmer now confined his thoughts to his own breast, and combated them as an hallucination; while Geneviève contented herself, on turning the corner of the Pont-au-Change, with casting a last look at the dark and gloomy Palace, where something like the phantom of a lost friend awoke in her memory many sweet and bitter remembrances.
They both reached La Grève without having exchanged a single word.
During this time the Gendarme Gilbert had brought in the basket of provisions intended for the queen. It contained some fruit, a cold chicken, a bottle of white wine, a carafe of water, and half a loaf.
Having first raised the napkin, and ascertained that everything was arranged as usual, he opened the screen.
"Citizeness," said he, "here is your supper."
Marie Antoinette divided the bread; but as her fingers pressed it, they came in contact with the silver. In an instant she comprehended that the bread contained something unusual.