"I swear it;" and forcing a smile, the young woman added: "I alone shall be your jailer. Come, come."
As she went out, Charlotte said to her mother, "Please ask Gertrude to have Castillon wait for me in the parlor." The advocate staggered out on the arm of his daughter. Looking after him, Madam Desmarais sighed to herself, "Unhappy man! I pity him." Sinister reflections followed close: "The triumph of Robespierre will mean the death of Billaud-Varenne, our friend, our protector, he who has prevented, to this very day, my brother Hubert from being called before the revolutionary tribunal. But when he is there no longer, who will take his place in protecting my brother's life? Alas, this day, whatever its issue, will hold a sad outcome for our family. How can one prepare for such a crisis?"
Charlotte at that moment returned, bearing the walnut casket in which reposed the legends and relics of the Lebrenn family. Madam Desmarais, running to her daughter quickly, said, in a tone of reproach, as she helped her set the casket down on a table, "Could you not have called Gertrude, instead of yourself carrying such a burden?"
"Have you asked Castillon to come here, good mother? I wish to set him to a task."
"I forgot your request, my girl. I shall at once repair the forgetfulness, and go seek your foreman. But before all, tell me, why you have brought this box in here?"
"I wish to place it in a safe and secret place, with Castillon's aid, dear mother. You know what store John and I set by the papers and objects contained in it. In these times of revolution, one must think of everything. John will be grateful to me for the precaution." So saying, she rang the bell.
Castillon entered. The foreman seemed preoccupied. He had slung on his cartridge box, his sword, and his volunteer's rifle.
"Put this chest on your shoulder and follow me, brave Castillon," said Charlotte. "I shall soon be back, dear mother. Hope and courage, all will go well! The Commune will triumph over the Convention."
"Oh, my presentiments, my presentiments did not deceive me," moaned Madam Desmarais after her daughter's and Castillon's departure. "This day will be fatal to us!"
Ten o'clock at night of that same day found the General Council of the Insurrectionary Commune of Paris still in session in that chamber of the City Hall called the Equality Chamber. The open windows gave on the square choked with citizens. Their bayonets and pike-heads glittered in the light of numerous torches; several cannon had been dragged up by the Sections, and from time to time one might hear cries of "Long live the Republic!" "Long live the Commune!" Within, torches lighted the vast expanse of the Equality Chamber, and the table about which sat, under the presidency of Fleuriot-Lescot the Mayor of Paris, the members of the Council of the Commune.