“Yes!” “Yes!” each replied simultaneously.
Both dismounted, that they might pass under the entrance of the inn.
In the meantime, the billiard-players, hearing a noise, rushed to the window, to see what it meant.
“Be on your guard!” cried M. Drouet. “The King, with his family, are trying to escape! They are travelling in two carriages. Wake up M. Sauce!—cry ‘Fire! fire!’ Guillaume and I will guard the bridge.”
At this moment, I arrived, and dashed against the door of the Procureur de la Commune, crying as loud as I could, “Fire! fire!” as M. Drouet had recommended.
In the meantime, he and Guillaume had disappeared down the Rue Neuve.
At the end of the bridge, they encountered a cart filled with furniture.
“Whose cart is that?” cried M. Drouet.
“Mine,” replied the driver.
“Ah, is it yours, Regnier?” said Guillaume. “You, I know, are a good patriot. Turn your cart across the bridge; it will stop the passage of the king.”