“There’s plenty of plunder about. Last week the jewels from a rue Royale shop were scattered from one end of the street to the other. The aristocrats and the anti-patriots are filling every jail in the city. We are taking over the best houses now for official headquarters.”
“What houses?” It was Dian who asked the question.
“I’ve a list.” Soufflot’s friend, a blacksmith of the Saint Antoine district, drew a paper from his pocket as he replied. He was thought well of in his district as a zealous patriot, and he enjoyed the importance. “We were each given one of these lists at the meeting of our section last night. I was sorry not to see you there, farmer,” he said, looking across at Dian, who still stood by the door. “Let’s see,” he went on, “they still have a number of decisions to make as to houses for official headquarters. There are any number whose former occupants have gone—so!” As he spoke the blacksmith dashed his hand across his throat, making a grating click with his tongue against his teeth.
The seed shopman laughed and so did the market gardener. The blacksmith pondered over his list.
“The hotel of the De Roumande family near the corner of the square by the Pont-Saint Michel. The hotel of the Framandes at 80 Champs Élysées, all the hotels of aristocrats within two blocks of the Place de la Concorde. The hotel of the Marquise du Ganne at 90 rue du Paradis.” The blacksmith chuckled. “The old bird croaked out some little time ago. Our authorities took care of the interment; and we’ve taken care of the niece, too; the proud Comtesse Saint Frère. She’s there safe as can be!”
Dian opened the door and went out, followed by Raoul. They walked away from the gates toward the city. Dian was silent, thinking how best to take the direction of the house of the Marquise du Ganne without arousing Raoul’s suspicions. He felt thankful enough when the boy spoke.
“I would like to see some of these houses of the aristocrats. They say any citizen may go in. Let’s go to the Framande house. I used to keep the cooks there in stitches of laughter, turning somersaults all up and down the kitchens when I brought the fresh produce in.”
Dian nodded assent. “Well enough then, if you like. I, too, would not mind a glimpse at some of them. You know the way, so I’ll follow your lead,” he said.
They walked up the great wide avenue, turning on to it from the rue Royale. Raoul looked back over his shoulder. At the end of the avenue the great giant guillotine showed black against a blue spring sky.
“I’ll tell you something I saw, Shepherd, if you’ll keep a quiet tongue in your head. There is a boy shut up in the bakery shop, the big, smart one on the rue Saint Honoré. I saw him quite by accident. I’ve not told any one. He’s an aristocrat, I’m sure; he had on a velvet suit.”