“Sh! My good Brutus, what folly! Why should I run away—and from whom, pray?”
“I know not that. But you are. I heard it in your voice. And you do not trust me, Citizen La Boulaye,” the fellow added, in a stricken voice. “I have served you faithfully these two years, and yet you have not learnt to trust me.”
“I do, I do, my friend. You go too fast with your conclusions. Now see to my valise, and on my return perhaps I'll tell you where I am going, and put your fidelity to the test.”
“And you will take me with you?”
“Why, yes,” La Boulaye promised him, “unless you should prefer to remain in Paris.”
With that he got away and leaving the house, he walked briskly up the street, round the corner, and on until he stood once more before Duplay's.
“Has the Citizen Robespierre departed yet?” he inquired of the woman who answered his peremptory knock.
“He has been gone this hour, Citizen La Boulaye,” she answered. “He started almost immediately after you left him.”
“Diable!” grumbled Caron, with well-feigned annoyance. “Quel contretemps! I have left a most important document in his room, and, of course, it will be locked.”
“But the Citoyenne Cecile has the key,” answered the woman, eager to oblige him.