"She shall certainly go to the Section, citizen, but first put down your weapon and let me speak. I am Citizen St. Hilaire—were we in the Faubourg St. Michel almost anybody would be able to tell you who I am."
"I know you, citizen!" exclaimed one of the men in the rear, "and you should know me also. My name is Gonflou!" and the fellow grinned good-naturedly over the shoulder of his companion, as if he recognized an old friend.
"Ah yes, good citizen Gonflou!" repeated St. Hilaire. "Restrain the ardor of this patriot who handles his musket so carelessly, while I question the little citizeness."
"Lower that musket, Haillon, or I'll beat your head with this," said Gonflou, rattling his heavy sabre threateningly.
Haillon muttered an oath and lowered the muzzle of his weapon.
"We can't be all night at this," he growled. "Better let me take a shot at the woman; she's an aristocrat, that's flat."
St. Hilaire bent over the countess.
"Release my arm!" She obeyed like a child. Stepping back with her a couple of paces, he continued:—
"Who is in the house you have just come out of? Answer me truthfully and fearlessly."
She looked up into his face, and he saw that she now recognized him as she answered in a whisper, "My husband. He is ill. I could only venture out after midnight to summon a physician who is known to us."