"How is your countess getting on?" he inquired.
"She hopes to find her lord in the House, where we are going. As we may find him," he added, in a low voice, "but dead, send me four stout lads to the Feuillants' gate, whom I may rely on to defend the body of an aristocrat as well as though a good patriot's."
"All right; go ahead with your countess; I will send the men."
Andrea was waiting at the garden end, where a sentry was posted; but as that was done by Pitou, he naturally let his captain pass.
The palace gardens were lighted by lamps set mostly on the statue pedestals. As it was almost as warm as in the heat of the day, and the slight breeze barely ruffled the leaves, the lamp-flames rose straight, like spear-heads, and lighted up the corpses strewn under the trees.
But Andrea felt so convinced that she should find her husband where the queen had taken refuge, that she walked on, without looking to either right or left. Thus they reached the Feuillants' gate.
The royal family had been gone an hour, and were in the record office, for the time. To reach them, there were two obstacles to pass: the guards and the royal attendants.
Pitou, as commanding the Tuileries, had the password, and could therefore conduct the lady up to the line of gentlemen.
The former favorite of the queen had but to use her name to take the next step.
On entering the little room reserved for her, the queen had thrown herself on the bed, and bit the pillow amid sobs and tears.