Presently he was conscious of feeling cold, and he made himself some coffee, moving about his room quietly. He remembered the woman upstairs. She was sleeping, surely. He had listened during the night and had not heard her. He had held her in his arms, had carried her up the stairs and placed her gently in a chair, leaving her in the care of the woman from the baker's shop at the corner of the alley. She would wake presently and he would see her. What should he say to her?
The coffee warmed Raymond Latour, but there was unusual excitement in his movements. As the light increased he sat down and tried to read. It was a volume of Plutarch's "Lives," a book which had done much to influence many revolutionaries; but he could not read with any understanding. To-day there was so much to be done, so many things to think of. There were his own affairs, and they must take first place, but in Paris the excitement would be at fever pitch to-day. Louis Capet was to die, the voting had decided; but when? There was to be more voting, and Raymond Latour must take his part in it. It was no wonder that he could not read.
The hours had dragged through the night, yet when a knock came at his door, it seemed to him that he had had little time to mature his plans, that it was only a very little while since he had carried the woman up the stairs. He opened the door quickly.
"The citizeness is awake and dressed. She is anxious to see you."
"What have you told her?"
"Only that the man who brought her last night would come and explain."
"I will go to her."
But Latour did not go immediately. He must have a few moments for thought, and he paced his room excitedly, pausing more than once to look at himself in a little mirror which hung upon the wall. His followers would hardly have recognized in him the calm, calculating man with whom they were accustomed to deal. It was with a great effort that he steadied his nerves and went quietly up the stairs.
Jeanne rose from her chair as he entered, but Latour could not know how her heart beat as the door opened. She looked at him steadily, inquiringly, waiting for him to speak.
"Mademoiselle has slept, I trust?"