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Iris has stolen my reason

And demands that I be wise.”

“Lorin, leave Dorat, Parny, and Gentil-Bernard9 out of it, please. Seriously, will you or will you not give me the password?”

“In other words, Maurice, you’re putting me in a situation where I have to sacrifice either my duty to my friend, or my friend to my duty. And you know as well as I do that it’ll be duty that goes.”

“You decide what it’s going to be, my friend. But for heaven’s sake, get on with it.”

“You won’t misuse the password?”

“I promise.”

“That’s not enough: swear!”

“On what?”

“Swear on the altar of the nation.”

Lorin promptly took his hat off and handed it to Maurice with the military insignia known as cockades10 facing him. Maurice, who acted as though the whole performance were perfectly normal, kept a straight face as he swore the required oath on the improvised altar.

“And now,” said Lorin, “here is the password: Gaul and Lutetia ….11 You might find people will say to you, as they have to me, ‘Gaul and Lucretia,’ but who cares! Let them pass anyway. It’s all Roman.”

“Citizeness,” said Maurice. “I am now at your service. Thank you, Lorin.”

“Safe trip!” said Lorin, clapping the altar of the nation back on his head. Then, true to his anacreontic tastes, he sauntered away muttering:

“At last, my dear Eleanor,

You have done the delicious deed

You feared, yet hoped for;

You tasted, still quivering,

So, tell me: what’s so frightening?”

3

RUE DES FOSSÉS-SAINT-VICTOR

Maurice suddenly found himself alone with the young woman and was momentarily embarrassed. The fear of being played for a fool, the lure of her wondrous beauty, a vague feeling of remorse that grated on his pure, passionately republican conscience, held him back just as he was about to give the woman his arm.

“Where are we going, citizeness?” he asked.

“Alas, monsieur, quite a way,” she replied.

“Yes, but …”

“Over near the Jardin des Plantes.”

“So be it. Shall we go?”

“Oh, dear, monsieur!” said the stranger. “I can see I’m being a nuisance. Believe me, if it weren’t for the terrible trouble I’m in, if I were only afraid of the usual dangers, I would not abuse your generosity like this.”

“Yes, well, madame,” said Maurice, suddenly forgetting the prescribed republican vocabulary in this tête-à-tête and swiftly reverting to everyday speech, “how is it, in all conscience, that you’re out on the streets of Paris at this hour? You can see for yourself there isn’t a soul about except you and me.”

“Monsieur, I told you: I went to visit someone in the faubourg du Roule. I left at midday without hearing anything about the new decree and I was coming back none the wiser. I spent all my time in a fairly out-of-the-way place.”

“Yes,” murmured Maurice. “In the house of some ci-devant aristocrat, in some aristocrat’s lair. Admit it, citizeness: while you’re outwardly begging my support, you’re inwardly laughing at me for giving it.”

“I am!” she cried. “How do you mean?”

“It’s pretty clear. You’ve managed to get a republican to serve you as a guide. Well, this republican happens to be betraying his cause: it’s as simple as that.”

“But, citizen,” said the stranger with real verve, “you are mistaken. I love the Republic as much as you do.”

“Well, then, citizeness, if you’re such a good patriot, you have nothing to hide. Where were you coming from, where have you been?”

“Oh, monsieur, have some pity!” said the stranger.

In that monsieur there was such a deep and touching expression of propriety that Maurice felt certain he got her gist. “No doubt about it,” he said to himself. “This woman’s returning from some amorous tryst.” And though he did not know why, the thought gave his heart a pang and caused him suddenly to clam up.

They headed off into the night, and when they had reached the rue de la Verrerie, having encountered three or four patrols who had let them continue freely on their way thanks to Maurice’s use of the password, an officer of a fifth patrol seemed determined to make trouble. Maurice thought it best at this point to add his name