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Tison was a sort of day laborer and general factotum whose job it was to do the heavy domestic work about the prison. He arrived, a man of about forty with a tanned complexion, a rough-hewn, Neanderthal face, and frizzy black hair that crept down to his eyebrows like a carpet.

“Tison,” said Santerre. “Who came yesterday to bring the detainees’ food?”

Tison cited a name.

“And their linen, who brought that?”

“My daughter.”

“So your daughter does the laundry?”

“Certainly.”

“And you got her the job of looking after the prisoners’ laundry?”

“Why not? She might just as well do theirs as anyone else’s. It’s not tyrants’ money anymore, it’s the nation’s money, since the nation’s paying for them.”

“You were told to examine the linen carefully.”

“Well then, didn’t I do my job? The proof is, yesterday there was a handkerchief someone had tied two knots in, so I took it to the Council, who ordered my wife to untie the knots and iron it and give it to Madame Capet without a word.”

At this reference to two knots tied in a handkerchief, the Queen trembled; her eyes widened and she exchanged a look with Madame Elisabeth and the girl.

“Tison,” said Santerre, “your daughter’s patriotism is beyond doubt. But from today she will no longer set foot in the Temple.”

“Oh, my God!” said Tison, frightened. “What are you trying to tell me? No! You mean I’ll never see my daughter again until I get out of here?”

“You will no longer get out of here,” Santerre retorted.

Tison looked around him, his haggard gaze not registering any one object. Then he suddenly erupted: “I’m no longer to leave the Temple? So, it’s like that, is it? All right! I’ll leave once and for all, right now! I’m handing in my resignation. I’m no traitor, no aristocrat, not me, to be kept in jail. I tell you I’m leaving this minute.”

“Citizen,” said Santerre. “Obey the orders of the Commune and hold your tongue or you could well be sorry. Stay here and watch whatever happens. We’ve got our eye on you, I’m warning you.”

During this time the Queen, thinking she had been forgotten, had regained her composure and put her son back to bed.

“Get your wife up here,” the municipal officer directed Tison—and Tison obeyed without a murmur. Santerre’s threats had rendered him as docile as a lamb. Tison’s wife stepped in.

“Come here, citizeness,” said Santerre. “The rest of us are going into the antechamber, and while we’re there you will search the detainees.”

“Do you know,” Tison said to his wife, “they won’t let our daughter into the Temple anymore.”

“What! They won’t let our daughter come here anymore? But that means we won’t see her again, doesn’t it?”

Tison shook his head.

“What are you muttering about over there?”

“I’m saying that we’ll file a report with the Council of the Temple and that the Council will decide. Meanwhile …”

“Meanwhile,” said the wife, “I want to see my daughter.”

“Quiet!” said Santerre. “We brought you up here to search the prisoners, so search them. We’ll see what happens after that.…”

“But … I mean!”

“Oh, dear!” said Santerre, frowning furiously. “It looks like things are going to get nasty.”

“Do what the citizen general asks you to! Go on, woman! Afterward, you heard him, he says we’ll see.” Tison turned an abject smile on Santerre.

“Very well,” said the woman. “Off you go. I’m ready to search them.” The men filed out of the room.

“My dear Madame Tison,” said the Queen. “Please don’t think …”

“I don’t think anything, citizeness Capet,” said the horrible woman, grinding her teeth. “Except that it’s you who are the cause of all the people’s misery. And if I find anything suspect on you, you’d better watch out.”

Four men remained in the doorway to lend Madame Tison a hand should the Queen resist. The woman began with the Queen, on whom she found a handkerchief knotted in three places, unhappily looking like a prepared response to the one Tison had spoken of. She also found a pencil, a scapular, and sealing wax.

“Aha! I knew it!” crowed Madame Tison. “Didn’t I tell the municipal officers that the Austrian