"Let him take the place from me, and he may have it." I declined the challenge, and slunk off at the back of the crowd, which was all too busy and expectant to heed whether I got a view or not.
What I heard that morning was bad enough.

There was the sound of the drums and the dull rumble of wheels, drowned by yells and shouts from the men and screams from the women; then a silence, when no one stirred, but every neck was craned forward to see; then a sudden tap of the drum; then the harsh crash of the knife; then a gasp from a thousand throats, and a great yell of "_Vive la Liberte_." Three times I heard it all.
Then the spectacle was at an end, and the crowd dispersed.
I kept a keen look-out among the groups that straggled past me for the bent figure of Mr Lestrange, but no sign of him could I see.

After all, thought I, this errand of mine to Paris was to be all for nothing, when close by I perceived Citoyenne Duport walking aloof from the crowd and bending her steps towards the gardens.

I resolved, cost what it might, not to lose sight of her, and followed her at a distance till the paths were quite deserted.
Then I quickened my steps and came up with her.
"Madame Duport," said I boldly, "I am the messenger you and Mr Lestrange expect." She looked round at me with blanched face, and held up her hand with a gesture of silence.
"No, no," said she, "I am not Madame Duport.

You mistake, my friend." "Madame need not fear me; I am no _mouchard_.