In the next room was a great hubbub; it was the reception of Santerre, who rolled into the hall.
"Where is this Austrian wench?" demanded he.
Gilbert cut slanting across the hall to intercept him.
"Halloo, Doctor Gilbert!" said he, quite joyfully.
"Who has not forgotten that you were one of those who opened the Bastile doors to me," replied the doctor. "Let me present you to the queen."
"Present me to the queen?" growled the brewer.
"You will not refuse, will you?"
"Faith, I'll not. I was going to introduce myself; but as you are in the way—"
"Monsieur Santerre needs no introduction," interposed the queen. "I know how at the famine time he fed at his sole expense half the St. Antoine suburb."
Santerre stopped, astonished; then, his glance happening to fall, embarrassed, on the dauphin, whose perspiration was running down his cheeks, he roared: