“There, messieurs!” she exclaimed in tones of deep anxiety; “do you believe me now?”
“You might at least say ‘citizens!’”
“Ah, sergeant, do not blame me for speaking that way,” said the pretty young girl; “my mother has many customers among the great people, and taught me to be polite. That’s how I acquired this bad habit—the habit of the aristocrats; and, you know, sergeant, it’s so hard to shake off old habits!”
This answer, delivered in trembling accents, concealed a delicate irony that was lost on all save me. I asked myself, who is this young woman? The mystery seemed complete. This alone was clear; she was not the daughter of a laundress.
“How did I come here, Citizen Albert?” she asked. “Well, I will tell you. I went to deliver some washing. The lady was not at home, and so I waited; for in these hard times every one needs what little money is coming to him. In that way it grew dark, and so I fell among these gentlemen—beg pardon, I would say citizens. They asked for my pass. As I did not have it with me, they were going to take me to the guard-house. I cried out in terror, which brought you to the scene; and as luck would have it, you are a friend. I said to myself, as M. Albert knows my name to be Solange Ledieu, he will vouch for me; and that you will, will you not, M. Albert?”
“Certainly, I will vouch for you.”
“Very well,” said the leader of the patrol; “and who, pray, will vouch for you, my friend?”
“Danton! Do you know him? Is he a good patriot?”
“Oh, if Danton will vouch for you, I have nothing to say.”
“Well, there is a session of the Cordeliers to-day. Let us go there.”