"Listen, Simon, hear what I promise you," said Jeanne Marie, laying her hard brown hand upon Simon's shoulder. "If the Austrian atones to-day for her crimes, and the executioner shows her head to the avenged people, I will give up my place at the guillotine as a knitter, will remain with you here in the Temple, will take my share in the bringing up of the little Capet, and you yourself shall make the proposition to the supervisor, that your wife like yourself shall not be allowed to leave the Temple."
"That is something I like to hear," cried Simon, delighted; "there will then be at least two of us to bear the tedium of imprisonment. So go, Jenne Marie, take your place for the last time at the guillotine, for I tell you, you will lose your bet; you will have to furnish brandy and cakes, and stay with me here at the Temple to bring up the little Capet. So go, I will go up to the platform with the boy, and wait there for your return."
He called the little Louis Charles, who was sitting on the tottering rush-chair in his room, and anxiously waiting to see whether "his master" was going to take him that day out of the dismal, dark prison.
"Come, little Capet," cried Simon, pushing the door open with his foot—" come, we will go up on the platform. You can take your ball along and play, and I advise you to be right merry to-day, for it is a holiday for the republic, and I am going to teach you to be a good republican. So if you want to keep your back free from my straps, be jolly to-day, and play with your ball"
"Oh!" cried the child, springing forward merrily with his ball—" oh! only be good, master, I will certainly be merry, for I like to play with my ball, and I am ever so fond of holidays. What kind of one is it to-day?"
"No matter about your knowing that, you little toad!" growled Simon, who in spite of himself had compassion on the pale face of the child that looked up to him so innocently and inquiringly. "Up the staircase quick, and play and laugh."
Louis obeyed with a smile, sprang up the high steps of the winding stairway, jumped about on the platform, throwing his ball up in the air, and shouting aloud when he caught it again with his little thin hands.
Meanwhile Simon stood leaning on the iron railing that surrounded the platform, looking with his searching eyes down into the street which far below ran between the dark houses like a narrow ribbon.
The wind now brought the sustained notes of the drums to him; then he saw the street below suddenly filled with a dark mass, as if the ribbon were turning into crape that was filling all Paris.
"The people are in motion by thousands," cried Simon, delightedly, "and all rushing to the Place de la Revolution. I shall win my bet."