Among the howling and racing men were two who carried each a human head on a pikestaff. They were those of two Lifeguards, killed at Versailles in defending the Queen from the mob.
“Halloa, it is Leonard,” said the strange workman, to the fugitive.
“Silence, do not name me,” yelled the barber, dashing into the saloon.
“What do they chase him for?” inquired Gamain.
“The Lord knows,” was the response: “maybe they want him to curl the hair of the poor soldiers. In Revolutionary times, fellows have such quaint fancies!”
He mixed in with the throng, leaving Gamain, from whom he had probably extracted all he wanted, to make his way alone to his workshop at Versailles.
CHAPTER III.
THE UNDYING MAN.
IT was the more easy for the pretended gunsmith to blend with the crowd as it was numerous.
It was the advance guard of the procession around the King, Queen and the Prince Royal, leaving the court suburb at half past one.
In the royal coach were the Queen, her son, her daughter, called Madam Royale though a child, Count Provence, the King’s brother. Lady Elizabeth his sister, and the Queen’s favorite lady of the household, Andrea Taverney Countess of Charny.