"Friends, then?"
"Well, yes."
"It is good. Paris is no place for a young girl alone. Besides, it is just now a scene of riot and bloodshed. It is in a state bordering on revolution. All France is roused. Royalists and Bonapartists have combined against the life of the republic. Paris is swarming with troops. There will be barricades and fighting in the streets, mademoiselle."
Fouchette recalled the fragments of conversations overheard,—conversations between the Supérieure and Father Sébastien and certain visitors. Beyond this casual information she knew absolutely nothing of what was going on in the outer world. He misconstrued her silence.
"Whom do you know in Paris, mademoiselle?—somebody powerful enough to protect you?"
"Oh, yes, monsieur," she promptly answered. "I know one man,—one who sent me here,—who is powerful——"
"May I ask——"
"The Chief of the Secret Police," she said, lowering her tone to a confidential scale,—"Inspector Loup."
"Oh, pardon, mademoiselle!" quickly responded the young man. "Pardon! I meant it for your welfare, not to inquire into your business. Oh, no; do not think me capable of that!"
He appeared to be somewhat frightened at what he had done, but became reassured when she passed it with easy good nature.