"Business is good enough, most of the time!" snapped Père Lefèvre. "I'm rushed to death in the morning and evening. Just now, however, the soldiers are all on duty, and it is not the hour for the commissaries' visit."
"Why don't you get someone to help you?" inquired the boy. "At your age it is not good for the health to get about so lively!"
"Help,—indeed!" growled Père Lefèvre. "Gladly would I, but the young boys are all too busy running about the streets and dancing the Carmagnole to pay attention to sober work. These are demoralising times for the young!"
"I imagine you are just the man for me, then," replied the boy. "The good woman I live with shoved me into the street this morning, and bade me not return till I had found employment for not less than seven francs a week. What do you say to that, my friend?"
"I say the saints must have sent you to me in my hour of need, and stay you shall for seven francs a week! But you must be here at six in the morning, and leave no earlier than ten at night."
"Done!" cried Jean, for of course it was he. "And now set me to work at once, lest I find time to regret our bargain!"
When Jean came back to the Rue de Lille that night, he was bubbling over with excitement and news.
"Oh, what do you think?" he exclaimed. "News!—the best of news! I am waiter at the tavern of Père Lefèvre, and have learned all about the situation of the ex-king and his family. The shop is crowded in the evening with soldiers and commissaries, and they do nothing but gossip over their suppers about what goes on in the Tower.
"Ah! their poor, fallen Majesties! It must be terrible for them! They are called no longer 'King' and 'Queen,' but 'tis 'Monsieur Capet' and 'Madame Capet' and the 'Little Capets'!—nothing but 'Capet, Capet,' every other word! Then they are watched and guarded every moment. There are two rogues, Tison and his wife, who are hired to do nothing but watch, watch, watch, spy on every word, sneak behind them at unexpected moments to see that they are not writing to anyone outside, listen to all their conversation, and search them every night and morning lest they have concealed weapons about them, or some means of escape!
"Think of it!—they prevented the King from teaching his son the multiplication table, because they said it might contain a cipher for communicating with friends outside! They took away the Queen's embroidery-work because they thought she might be sewing into it a secret language! They search every article of food that goes into the Tower, even cutting open loaves of bread and cake! Ah, it is horrible!