As to my passport, it would be of little use to me unless I could give a fit account of myself and my masters.

As for Citoyen Duport, if I once put my head in his jaws I need not expect to see it on again.

And as for my letter to Citoyen Lestrange, I had better carry it in the sole of my stocking, and let no one know I bore a missive to any Englishman or Irishman in Paris.

My wisest course, so one frank official at Alencon told me, was to know no French, to have no errand but my letter to Citoyen Duport; that delivered, he thought I should save trouble if I shot myself through the head.
All this was very alarming; and I began to doubt, when at last I caught sight of the towers and domes of Paris in the distance, whether I should not have been better off after all hiding in the caves under Fanad, or dangling on the gallows beside Brest harbour.
At the barrier, however, things fell out easier for me than I had feared.

For, just as I arrived, a common cart on the way out had been stopped and searched, and in it, hidden in a wood packing-case, had been unearthed some notorious enemy of the people, over whose detection there was great rejoicing, and the promise of a famous execution in the morning.