I involuntarily raised my head, and read on the façade of the house these three words:
“Duplay, Master Carpenter.”
I entered—the apprentices followed me.
CHAPTER XIV.
MY NEW PARISIAN FRIENDS.
The carpenter, Duplay, in contact with whom fortune had brought me, had, at that period—that is to say, on the 12th of July, 1790,—the celebrity of having given shelter to a notorious revolutionist, which celebrity afterwards was attached to his name, his family, and his house.
He was a good patriot, and attended constantly at the Jacobin Club which was held in the neighborhood, and where almost all his evenings were passed, applauding the speeches of a little advocate of Arras, who, though ridiculed in the National Assembly, was appreciated in the Rue St. Honoré. The name of this little advocate was Robespierre.
When we arrived, we found the table laid for supper, through the forethought of his two daughters, Estelle and Cornelie. Their old grandmother was seated in an arm-chair, and Madame Duplay was in the kitchen, devoting all her attention to the forthcoming meal.
I was introduced to the two young ladies, both very charming girls. Estelle was a blonde, with beautiful blue eyes, and a figure wonderfully symmetrical, and flexible as a reed.
Cornelie was a brunette, with eyes black as sloes, and a stately and majestic contour.