"Also in prison," answered Lafayette. "She was caught in her endeavor to leave Paris less than a week ago."
"Monsieur Bersac," said Jeanne, but not speaking so readily.
"In heaven, mademoiselle. The dwellers in the suburbs beyond the Seine remembered that he once called them idlers, accused them of thriving on other men's industry. The people have a long memory."
"They killed him?"
"At the door of his own house. There is a lantern over it."
There was silence for some moments. The color, faded from Jeanne's face, and the tears came into her eyes. She forced them back with a great effort.
"There is the Vicomte de Morlieux," she said, suddenly.
"Alas, mademoiselle, only last night he was the center of a yelling mob which passed beneath these windows bearing him to the Temple. He is accused, I believe, of assisting the King's flight, and with showing courage when the Tuileries was attacked. Surely you understand your danger?"
Barrington had looked from one to the other as they spoke, admiring the woman's courage, wondering if it were necessary for Monsieur le Marquis to give her such precise information. He knew she was courageous, but was it wise to try her so severely as this?
"You have said the people remember," Jeanne said slowly; "they will recollect, then, that I have done something for the poor. I never thought to boast of my charity, but I will make capital out of it."