harm!"

"And so do I," replied Jean, "and therefore I intend to march with the mob on the twentieth. Who knows but I may be in some way useful to the poor little Citizen Dauphin!"

"But," continued Mère Clouet, "it was kind of that strange young man to take you into the club to-night! Did you learn who he may be?"

"Indeed I did!" answered the boy. "All through the meeting he sat with his arms folded and his strange eyes fixed on the speakers. Once, when Santerre harangued us, I heard him mutter, 'Canaille!' and another time when Robespierre was speaking, he whispered to me, 'That is a man of power, but—one should beware!' When we left the club, we parted on the Rue St. Honoré, and he said, 'Perhaps you will tell me your name, young sir. You seem a lad of spirit!' When I had informed him, he told me his own. 'Tis a strange one, and has a foreign sound,—Napoleon Bonaparte!"

IN WHICH THE DAUPHIN WEARS THE RED CAP

CHAPTER III

IN WHICH THE DAUPHIN WEARS THE RED CAP

There is nothing in this world so fickle as a Parisian mob! A breath, a word, a gesture even, can often turn it aside from its most murderous purpose, and bring it worshipping to the very feet of those it sought but a moment before to destroy!

The great palace of the Tuileries was crowded to suffocation. Hordes of savage men, women, and even children from the poorest quarters of Paris, thronged, jostled and fought one another to get a sight of their hated sovereigns. A small company of soldiers strove in vain to clear the rooms and defend the royalty from the taunts and insults of the populace. Outside the palace, a still greater section of the mob, unable to force an entrance, shrieked for something spectacular, even to demanding the heads of the royal family. It was a wild, turbulent scene!

Jean had kept his word. Throughout the four hours' march along the Rue St. Honoré, on that memorable twentieth of June, he had stayed closely by that great giant of a Santerre, who finally gave him his heavy pike to carry. At the palace gate the mob forced the doors with a rush, and Jean, by virtue of being in the van with the brewer, entered among the first. Up the Grand Staircase they hurried, pell-mell, dragging a piece of cannon with them, and using hatchets, commenced to force the door behind which it was rumoured that the King was hiding. Doubtless the mob expected to find him cowering in terror behind a few faithful soldiers. What then was their amazement when the panels of the door fell in, to behold him standing directly before them, calm and unmoved!

"Here I am!" announced Louis XVI. "Had you waited but a moment, you might have entered the door without destroying it. What do you wish with me?" The rabble fell back a pace, in enforced respect. Jean crept behind some of the tallest, not wishing the King to perceive him and misinterpret his intentions.

"We have here a decree concerning the rights of the people!" announced one, Legendre, a butcher, who had constituted himself their spokesman. "We wish you to sanction it!"

"This," said the King quietly, "is neither the place nor the time for me to do that. You know that I will do all which your new Constitution requires of me!" His kingly dignity quite changed the attitude of the turbulent throng.

"Vive la nation!" suddenly shouted his assailants in response.

"Yes," answered the King, "shout for the nation! I am its best friend!"

"Well, prove it then!" demanded a bold voice, and its owner handed the King a red cap on the point of a pike. Jean held his breath, wondering what the monarch would do now. But Louis XVI deemed this neither the time nor the place to resist what was after all but a symbol. He lifted the cap, and with a dignified gesture, placed it on his head. Further than that, he even poured some liquor from a bottle offered to him, and drank to the nation, though there were a thousand chances that he had been presented with poison. After that he was loudly applauded, and there was plainly no reason to fear an attack upon his person.

But now Jean became anxious for the safety of the little prince, and pushed his way from the room to ascertain what he could concerning the other members of the royal family. At the door of the council hall he heard it said that within could be seen the "Austrian Wolf," as they called the Queen. Truly enough, there she was at the end of the room. Jean's heart gave a bound at the sight of the group. Fenced in by a long table stood Marie Antoinette, her head high, her great eyes flashing, her cheeks deathly pale. On one side of her stood young Marie-Thérèse, pale also, but brave and unflinching, her hand clasped in her mother's. And on the table, supported by his mother's arm, stood the Dauphin. In his face was mingled astonishment and fright, and he turned his eyes constantly toward his mother, as if to read in her countenance the meaning of this amazing invasion.

For a time nothing but confusion reigned. Cries of "Down with the Austrian Wolf!" mingled with shouts of "Vive Santerre!" "Vivent les Sans-culottes!" "Vive le Faubourg St. Antoine!" Then suddenly there was silence. A huge woman pushed her way through the crowd, threw her red woollen liberty-cap on the table and cried:

"If thou art so fond of the nation, thou Austrian Wolf, let thy son wear the red cap of liberty!"

"Yes, yes!" shrieked the crowd. "Crown the little Wolf-Cub with the red cap, and give him some tri-coloured ribbons to wear!" Someone threw down the ribbons beside the cap. The Queen turned to one of the guards standing close by.

"Place the cap on his head!" she commanded, and the grenadier did so, setting it on the boy's brown curls; then he tied the ribbons in his button-hole. The little fellow, hardly comprehending whether this might be in sport or insult, smiled uncertainly. The multitude shouted and applauded, and more confusion ensued. Jean, taking advantage of the racket, slipped to the front, and placed himself directly before the Dauphin. The little prince at once recognised him, but before he should show that he did, Jean leaned across the table and shouted "Vive la nation!" and then in an undertone whispered: "I am only here to help you! What can I do?" The Dauphin's face lit up with a smile of understanding, and without an instant's hesitation he murmured:

"Find Moufflet!" Comprehending well the boy's anxiety for his pet, Jean passed on, melted into the crowd and quickly scurried away, darting here and there, in and out of all the rooms to which he could find admittance. But it was like hunting for a needle in a haystack. Chance alone finally favoured him. As he passed a thickly-packed group in one of the corridors, he thought he distinguished a faint yelp. In another moment he knew that he was not mistaken. Hating anything that was royal property, a crowd of rough sans-culottes had surrounded the poor shivering animal, for lack of being able to get any nearer its master.

"Here, Jacques!" called one ruffian, "give me your pike and I'll finish him!" He was just about to spear the frightened, yelping ball of fluff, when Jean broke madly through the crowd.

"Give him to me!" he commanded. "He's just