“Yet you say my sword is useless.”

“As useless as the wooden toy weapon of a boy,” was the answer.  “To-day I am of no account.  At any moment I am likely to be seized by some of the very men who have been my supporters, some trumped up charge preferred against me, and then—­then forty-eight hours or less may suffice to close the account.”

“You are in immediate danger?” asked Barrington.

“A condition I share with nearly every honest man in France.  It is not known that I am in Paris.  I am supposed to be with the army.  I came secretly, having affairs to settle in case of the worst happening.  I may find it necessary to cross the frontier, as so many others have done, and after the part I have played am not likely to find much welcome.”

“You know, monsieur, that I would do anything to help you.”

“My dear Richard, I know that; but you must not overburden yourself.  By bringing mademoiselle here you have not brought her into a place of safety.  You should have persuaded her to stay in Beauvais.”

“I did my best.”

“And for the moment you have saved her.  That is something.  Now set your fertile brain to work, Richard, and scheme how to get her back to Beauvais again.”

“But Bruslart—­”

Lafayette silenced him with a look, as the door opened and Jeanne entered.  She had washed the stains from her face, and changed her attire.  Both men rose, and Lafayette placed a chair for her.

“You have braved so much, mademoiselle, that one does not fear to speak the truth to you,” said the Marquis.  “I have been explaining to Monsieur Barrington that this house is no safe refuge for you.  Things have changed rapidly since you left Paris.”

“I know.  We have not been without news at Beauvais,” said Jeanne.

“I would to God you had never been persuaded to leave so safe a retreat.  I am aware, mademoiselle, that you dislike me.  You would call me a renegade from my order.  It is true.  I had dreams of a reformed, a regenerated France; my strivings toward these dreams have ended in failure.”

“I think I can refrain from disliking a man who has the courage of his opinions,” said Jeanne, quietly.  “Had I had my own way I should not have fled from Paris.  We were too easily alarmed, and our fear placed a weapon in the hands of our enemies.”

“At least, mademoiselle, accept the position now.  The weapon is in the hands of the people, and they are using it.  Those who would have held them in check are powerless.  Be advised.  Let me, with the help of my friend here, do my best to get you safely back to Beauvais.  After last night’s adventure, you will be looked for high and low.  While the hunt in the city is keen, it may be easy to slip out unobserved.  Every moment we delay the difficulty increases.”

“Has not Monsieur Barrington informed you of my purpose in coming to Paris?”

“He has.”