Raoul then told Dian everything he knew as they walked toward the Framande house. It was natural enough that the shepherd should question him, and he found out that, as far as Raoul could tell, the prisoner had looked well, had been dressed in his usual way, and had had a tray of milk and cakes carried up to him by a woman whom Raoul declared to be kind.
“He could have worse than her looking after him, whoever he is. She’s given me many a cup of hot coffee and a cake on cold days. She’s good enough; but the boy’s in bad hands if he’s a prisoner of her husband! He’ll have him up before the Tribunal for trial when the time is ripe. You mark my words, he’s going to get some sort of plum for himself out of this pudding!” Dian listened to Raoul in silence, making no comment except to ask a few questions. Since he had found the note in the cake he had waited quietly for the next development. He trusted that he would be shown the right way and he had spoken confidently to Humphrey Trail when that impetuous soul longed for action.
He was thinking of Humphrey and of Rosanne as he walked with Raoul along the Champs Élysées. He saw Humphrey every day and he knew that Rosanne was safe with Vivi, but he realized, as did also the Yorkshire man, that Rosanne must not remain longer in the alley. Vivi was out now playing about the gates and plying her father’s trade of selling licorice water. She was the best little soul in the world, and she loved Rosanne, but she was very young and she had never learned to keep things to herself. She might, without meaning to, say something which would cause suspicion and bring an investigating body of citizen soldiers to the alley. There was only one place where Rosanne could be safe until the opportunity came to take her out of Paris, and that was in the hidden cellar.
They found a noisy mob about the Framande house and sights that were bad to see, for the crowds were out looting and robbing and killing. They turned away, glad to be on a quiet street, and walked on in silence a few minutes. Then Dian said:
“There were other houses. There was one on the rue du Paradis, the Du Ganne place, was it not? Let us see what is going on there.”
Raoul nodded. “I know that one well, too. The old lady used to give great parties. She’s dead now, and her niece is prisoner there. I’d like to have a look at her!”
The house of the Marquise du Ganne was gloomy and big and forbidding. At the wide entrance door they were challenged by a soldier in the uniform of the Republic, who called:
“Who goes there? Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death!”
Dian and Raoul answered: “Friends. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death!” and went inside.
In the center of a long hall some men in uniform sat writing at a table. Citizens of Paris, some rough and ragged, walked about, but, for the most part, the place was quiet. One of the men glanced up from his writing and, when he saw Dian, nodded and beckoned to him. Dian went over to the table, recognizing him as one of the men who had attended Soufflot’s supper.