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“You could get me in to see the Queen, monsieur?” cried Geneviève.

“I certainly could.”

“How so?” asked Morand, exchanging a rapid look with Geneviève that passed unnoticed by the young man.

“Nothing easier,” said Maurice. “Of course, there are municipal officers who are considered a bit on the nose and not entirely to be trusted. But I’ve given enough proof of my devotion to the cause of liberty not to be counted among them. In any case, entry into the Temple depends jointly on the municipal officers and the post commanders. Now, the particular day I’m on duty again, the post commander is my friend Lorin, who I reckon will be appointed to replace General Santerre in a few months’ time—he’s shot up from the grade of corporal to that of adjutant-major in no time.…3 So come and get me at the Temple the day I’m on duty, which is next Thursday.”

“Well,” said Morand, “I hope they look after you. Do you know how to get there?”

“Oh, no!” said Geneviève. “No, I can’t go.”

“Why not?” cried Maurice, who could only view this visit to the Temple as a means of seeing Geneviève on a day when he thought he’d be deprived of such bliss.

“Because,” said Geneviève, “it might mean exposing you, dear Maurice, to some kind of nasty conflict … and if anything happens to you, our friend, any strife caused by satisfying one of my whims, I would never forgive myself—not as long as I live.”

“You’re absolutely right, Geneviève,” said Morand. “Believe me, there is so much mistrust that the best patriots are suspect these days; you’re better off giving up the whole idea, which, as you say, is just a simple whim of curiosity.”

“Anyone would think you were jealous, Morand—as though, not having seen a king or a queen yourself, you don’t want anyone else to see one. Come, enough talk. Why don’t you join us?”

“Me? Good grief, no.”

“It’s no longer a matter of citizeness Dixmer’s wanting to come to the Temple; it’s I who am entreating her, along with you, to come and distract a poor prisoner. For once the main door is shut on me, I am just as much a prisoner for the next twenty-four hours as any king or prince of the blood.”

Squeezing Geneviève’s foot with both of his, he went on, “Please come, I beseech you.”

“Go on, Morand,” said Geneviève. “Come with me.”

“It would mean losing a whole day,” said Morand, “which means delaying by as much the day I retire from commerce.”

“Well then, I won’t go,” said Geneviève.

“Why not?” asked Morand.

“Lord knows it’s simple enough,” said Geneviève. “I can’t count on my husband to accompany me, so if you won’t, as a decent man, a man of thirty-eight, I would never be so reckless as to go and confront on my own all those artillerymen, grenadiers, and chasseurs, asking for a municipal officer only three or four years my senior.”

“Well,” said Morand, “if you really think my presence is indispensable, citizeness …”

“Come on, citizen savant, be gallant, as if you were actually just an ordinary man,” said Maurice. “Sacrifice half of your day to the wife of your friend.”

“So be it!” said Morand.

“Now,” said Maurice, “I ask only one thing of you and that is discretion. Any visit to the Temple is suspect conduct, and any mishap that might occur as a result of this visit will get us all guillotined. The Jacobins don’t joke, damn them! You’ve seen how they treated the Girondins.”

“Good Lord!” said Morand. “That’s something to think about, what citizen Maurice is saying: such a way of retiring from commerce wouldn’t suit me at all.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Geneviève said, smiling. “The citizen said us all?”

“So, us all?”

“All together.”

“Yes, well, no doubt the company is perfectly pleasant,” said Morand, “but I’d prefer to live in your company than to die in it, my sentimental beauty.”

“Hear that! What was I thinking,” Maurice said to himself, “when I thought this man was in love with Geneviève?”

“So it’s agreed,” said Geneviève. “Morand, it’s you I’m talking to, you the absentminded professor, you the dreamer. We