A clock somewhere near the West Barricade struck nine. It was time for the guests to arrive. Just then, the market gardener, who had contributed largely to the feast, entered the room, Raoul at his heels. Towering behind them, his grey cloak wrapt close about him, hatless, and with the breath of fields and woods that seemed always to hover mysteriously about him, was Dian!
"I've brought in a man from the farmlands. He met up with the boy, Raoul. He's a shepherd and he's new to the city. He went to a sitting of the convention last night and spoke some good words, but those fools wouldn't listen to him," said the market gardener. Having donated the pigs and potatoes and the cake for the feast, he felt at liberty to bring in whom he pleased to partake of it.
Soufflot gave Dian a hearty welcome. His greeting was interrupted by the loud trampling of feet and the jangle of rough voices on the stairs, and the next moment the party arrived!
It was a noisy meal after the first hunger had been appeased. The guests, whose food consisted daily of black bread and garlic washed down with poor wine, ate enormously, declaring that they never knew that roasted pig could taste so good.
When at last they had had enough of the pig, they sat back and began to talk.
"The aristocrats are going, going, going! The guillotine is doing good work. But we must find them all, we must not let any escape! Some of them are getting away in spite of us, but, for the most part, they're safe under lock and key or, better still, minus their thinking caps!"
There was a loud laugh at the end of the seed shopman's remark, followed by a moment's hush as Soufflot's wife lifted the great cake and began to pass it around the table. It was so magnificent, as Lisle had said, that it fairly took one's breath away. Most of the guests--tailors, blacksmiths, and tanners from the Saint Antoine district--were in awe of it, but after one taste they fell to with ardor. It was good! Ah, but it was delicious, that cake from the bakery on the rue Saint Honoré!
It was slow work passing it about the table, for it was heavy to carry. As Soufflot's wife had no china dish to put it on, she had left it in its green box. Raoul regarded it yearningly. Would it ever reach him! He had thought often of the boy in the room above the junk room at the back of the bakery, but he had not spoken of him to any one. He knew that it was best to keep a quiet tongue in one's head and he had no desire at all to get himself into trouble. It was no concern of his! He eyed the cake gloatingly, and turning to Dian, who sat next to him, he exclaimed: "How big it is! Madame Soufflot cuts big wedges for everyone but still it seems immense!"