Happily for us his hotel had been visited by the police only the night before—ere the travellers arrived—and he had not yet exposed their names on his list. But it was known that the baggage, delivered last night, bore the name of the suspected Cazin, and that was enough to ruin us all.
You may fancy the distress of the ladies at this news. All they could do was to hand one of their little rolls of assignats to the landlord, and promise that within an hour he should be rid of them.
“But the baggage,” said mine host, who, in the midst of his perturbation, saw his way to a solatium for himself; “I must detain that, and hand it over if required.”
“But it is not Monsieur Cazin’s; it is my lady’s, who is no connection of the suspect,” said I.
“If the ladies cannot part with their baggage,” said mine host, fumbling the notes, “they must remain here with it. I confiscate it in the name of the Republic One and Indivisible.”
It was no use arguing or appealing; our only hope lay in civility.
“Citizen host,” said I, “is quite right, and the ladies are grateful for his consideration. Their name is Lestrange. They know nothing of Citizen Cazin or his baggage, and they bid adieu to the Hotel Lambert forthwith.”
The cunning landlord, having gained his ends, returned to his civility.
“The ladies,” said he, “are wise. But they will do well to put on the garments of plain citoyennes, which I can provide, in exchange for what they wear; otherwise they may be traced. That done, they will do well to leave my poor house on foot with the young Citoyen Lestrange,” (here he pointed to me), “and forget to return.”
It was good advice, though it went to my heart to see my mistresses further robbed. But when presently they appeared in the plain garb of common Parisiennes I confess I felt relieved, for no one who saw them would suspect them of being foreign ladies, though any one would be bound to admit they were two very fair women. As for me, I was not long in bartering my livery coat for the blue blouse of a workman; and thus that afternoon, as the light was beginning to fail, and all the world was talking of the execution of the beautiful Madame Roland, which was to take place in the morning, three humble persons quitted the side door of the Hotel Lambert and bent their steps dolefully towards the bridge that led across to the Quai near the Island of the City, once known as Quai Necker.