Thus she must have crossed the bridge along with some of the crowd, must have landed on the jetty, and reached the front of the tent, without really knowing what she was doing.
Ah yes! her passport! She had quite forgotten that! But she had it by her, quite in order, given to her in a fit of tardy remorse by Demoiselle Candeille, the intimate friend of one of the most influential members of the Revolutionary Government of France.
She took the passport from the bosom of her dress and handed it to the man in the official dress.
"Your name ?" he asked peremptorily.
"Celine Dumont," she replied unhesitatingly, for had she not rehearsed all this in her mind dozens of times, until her tongue could rattle off the borrowed name as easily as it could her own; "servitor to Citizeness Desiree Candeille!" The man who had very carefully been examining the paper the while, placed it down on the table deliberately in front of him, and said: "Celine Dumont! Eh! la mere! what tricks are you up to now ?" "Tricks?
I don't understand!" she said quietly, for she was not afraid.
The passport was en regle: she knew she had nothing to fear.
"Oh! but I think you do!" retorted the official with a sneer, "and 'tis a mighty clever one, I'll allow.

Celine Dumont, ma foi! Not badly imagined, ma petite mere: and all would have passed off splendidly; unfortunately, Celine Dumont, servitor to Citizeness Desiree Candeille, passed through these barriers along with her mistress not half an hour ago." And with long, grimy finger he pointed to an entry in the large book which lay open before him, and wherein he had apparently been busy making notes of the various passengers who had filed past him.
Then he looked up with a triumphant leer at the calm face of Marguerite.
She still did not feel really frightened, only puzzled and perturbed; but all the blood had rushed away from her face, leaving her cheeks ashen white, and pressing against her heart, until it almost choked her.
"You are making a mistake, Citizen," she said very quietly.

"I am Citizeness Candeille's maid.

She gave me the passport herself, just before I left for England; if you will ask her the question, she will confirm what I say, and she assured me that it was quite en regle." But the man only shrugged his shoulders and laughed derisively.

The incident evidently amused him, yet he must have seen many of the same sort; in the far corner of the tent Marguerite seemed to discern a few moving forms, soldiers, she thought, for she caught sight of a glint like that of steel.