On the twenty-eighth, a loud knocking on the door of the house
brings Aristide Dauvray to the door. A brief parley. The obstructions
are cleared. Raoul is clasped in his father's arms. Safe at last.
Grim, bloody, powder-stained, with tattered clothes, he is yet
unwounded. A steady sergeant and half-dozen men are quickly posted
as a guard. They can breathe once more. This help is sadly needed.
In a darkened room above, little Louise Moreau lies in pain and
silence.
Grave-faced Pere Francois is the skilful nurse and physician.
A shell fragment, bursting through a window, has torn her tender,
childish body.
Raoul rapidly makes Armand and his father known to the nearest
"poste de garde." He obtains protection for them. His own troops
are ordered to escort drafts of the swarming prisoners to the
Orangery at Versailles. Already several thousands of men, women,
and children, of all grades, are penned within the storied walls.
Here the princesses of France sported, before that other great
blood frenzy, the Revolution, seized on the Parisians.
With a brief rest, he tears himself away from a mother's arms, and
departs for the closing duties of the second siege of Paris. The
drawing in of the human prey completes the work.
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