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His smile vanished. “Don’t rush me. I’m thinking about it. You wish only to speak to the queen? You have no intention of trying to arrange helping her escape?”

Juliette hesitated. “Not at this time.” She rushed on. “Though you should not have placed them in that horrible place.”

“It’s not so terrible. They have many comforts.

” Juliette de Clement was clearly involved in a plot of some sort and reckless enough to risk all their heads if it suited her.

Still, audacity often carried the day, and it had always been his opinion it would be better for France if the royal family did escape before the Jacobins sent Louis to the guillotine.

The moment the king was beheaded, Danton hadn’t the slightest doubt that both England and Spain would declare war.

“Why do you think I’ll be able to get you into the Temple? ”

“You’re a man who wants to know everything that’s going on around him. Why else would you hire Francois Etchelet? The royal family is a danger to your new republic and you make sure you know everything concerning them. Isn’t that true?”

Danton nodded. “You’re very perceptive. I did have Francois study their situation at the Temple in some depth when they were transferred there from the Tuileries.”

“And you can get me in?”

“We can get almost anyone into the Temple, according to Francois. Hebert’s precautions are laughable. Entry cards are issued to practically anyone who asks.” He paused. “But it would be impossible to get any member of the royal family out. They’re very closely guarded.”

“I don’t want to get anyone out except myself.”

Danton thought for a moment. “The lamplighter who goes every evening to the Temple often takes members of his family along, and I understand the faces of the members of his family change with his fortunes. A small bribe should suffice.”

“I don’t have any money and I don’t want to ask Jean Marc. He mustn’t know about this.”

“Why not?”

“If he doesn’t want me to go out on the street, do you think he’d want me to go to the Temple?” She frowned. “He’s not being at all reasonable regarding this matter.”

Danton smothered a smile. “I regret not being able to offer you any funds, but I’m only a poor republican official.”

“Let me think.” Juliette was silent a moment. “Francois. Jean Marc gave him a fortune for marrying Catherine. He can pay the bribe.”

“Perhaps. If he wishes to become involved.”

“He’s already involved.”

“That doesn’t mean he’ll help you. Francois is a brilliant man, but he can be blind to practicalities on occasion.

Two years ago he showed up on my doorstep fresh from the Basque country, burning with the fever of the revolution, begging to serve me in any way I asked of him.

” Danton’s lips twisted in a half smile.

“Some of the things I asked were not exactly as pure as his ideals, but he never said no to me. He believes the republic will live forever because the Rights of Man are just and good.”

“And you don’t?”

“I believe the republic will be what we make it whether good or evil.” He tilted his head. “And what do you believe in, Citizeness?”

She rose to her feet “I believe people should be left in peace to do what they wish to do.” She drew her hood over her head. “And I believe that people who take away that peace should be punished. Will you speak to Francois or shall I?”

“I haven’t said I’d cooperate with you.”

“But you will?”

Danton hesitated and then nodded slowly. “And I’ll speak to Francois. I’ve noticed you lack a certain diplomacy of expression.”

She nodded briskly. “When? It must be soon.”

“Today. And if all goes well, you’ll go to the Temple tomorrow evening. I’ll see that the queen receives a message to the effect that if she goes for a walk in the courtyard when the sun is about to set, she may be pleasantly surprised.” He bowed mockingly. “If that will suit your convenience.”

She nodded. “I’ll be here at—”

“No, I’ll tell Francois to meet you down the street from the Andreas house just before dusk. I have no wish to have you on my doorstep again.” His lips twisted. “Your disguise leaves a great deal to be desired.”

“I had no time to think about disguises.”

“I suggest you take the time if you intend to continue to dash about Paris.”

“I will.” She started for the door. “I suppose you’re right and it would be wise to—”

A soft knock sounded at the door and his wife opened the door. “Georges Jacques, it’s Citizen Dupree.” Her tone was stilted. “Shall I show him in?”

“In a moment, chérie . Don’t tell him of our visitor.”

“I’ll not speak to him at all. It makes me ill to look at him.” Gabrielle shut the door.

Nor did she speak often to her own husband anymore, Danton thought with a wrenching pang. She shrank away from him as she did from anyone connected with the massacres.

He turned abruptly away and gestured toward the door on the other side of the study. “That door leads to a small garden with a gate that lets out onto the street. Hurry.”

Juliette moved quickly across the room. “Tomorrow.”

Danton nodded and then watched dully as the door closed behind her. He was not thinking of his rash young visitor, but of his wife. Gabrielle would forgive him in time. Their love was too deep to be lost because of politics. In a few months she would be fine again.

“Georges Jacques, I dropped by to bring you the latest copy of ‘Père Duchesne’.” Danton turned to see Dupree standing in the doorway. Dupree moved forward and dropped a copy of Marat’s inflammatory pamphlet on the desk. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d give you one of the first copies.”

“You’re too kind, Citizen.”

Dupree shrugged. “I believe in serving my friends well.” He crossed to the window. “I’ll be glad to wait for—” He broke off, stiffening, his gaze on the street.

“What’s wrong?” Danton quickly crossed the study to stand beside Dupree. Juliette de Clement was disappearing around the corner, but nothing was visible except the back of her cloak, he noticed with relief. “Is something amiss, Citizen?”

“Perhaps not.” Dupree frowned. “That woman looked familiar.”

“Which woman?”

“The woman in the brown cloak. She’s gone now.”

“You know her?”

“There was something in the way she moved.”

“You frequent the Comédie Francaise. Perhaps she’s an actress you’ve had occasion to see there.”

“Possibly.” Dupree shrugged. “However, if I do know her, I’ll eventually remember. I have an excellent memory.”

“I’m sure you will.” Danton strolled to the desk and picked up the pamphlet. “What’s the subject of Marat’s ravings today?”

Dupree turned immediately from the window. “You should not speak of him in that way. He’s a true friend of the republic.”

“But sometimes we must forget loyalties toward one friend when we make another.” Danton paused meaningfully. “I have no liking for Marat.”

Dupree hesitated and then smiled ingratiatingly. “Naturally, I would not care to display my dislike of being in his service until I had a position I esteemed more.”

Mother of God, the man would betray the devil himself if offered a higher place. Danton was careful to mask his disgust. “I can understand your caution.”

“But this wouldn’t be a suitable time to relinquish my position. I’m leaving tomorrow for Andorra on a very important mission. Perhaps we can talk when I return?”

“Andorra?” Danton frowned. “Spain? What business has Marat with the Spaniards?”

“A concern of great importance to France, and naturally he would trust it to no one but me.”

“Naturally.” Dupree was evidently not going to confide the nature of that concern, Danton thought with annoyance. What the devil was Marat doing with his filthy fingers in foreign affairs? “You said you’ll leave tomorrow?”

Dupree nodded. “Marat’s given me permission to stop off and spend a fortnight of rest with my mother, who lives on the outskirts of Paris in the village of Clairemont. It’s a difficult trip across the Pyrenees.”

Then the “concern” while important was not urgent. “After your efforts of last month I can see how you’d need a rest,” Danton said without expression as he picked up his hat and gloves. “Come, it’s time we started for the convention.”

Marie Antoinette’s hair was white.

“Keep your head down,” the lamplighter whispered. “I told you not to look up once we were in the courtyard.”

Juliette hastily lowered her gaze and reached up to tie the woolen kerchief more securely under her chin.

Her hands were trembling and her throat tight with tears.

The queen’s hair was white. It wasn’t perfumed or powdered.

She didn’t have on a wig as Juliette had seen her wear on so many occasions when she had first come to Versailles.

Marie Antoinette was only thirty-six and she looked twice those years.

“Stop gaping at her.” The lamplighter lit the lamp to the left of the gate. “Do you want to get thrown into the Tower with her?”

“She looks so different.”

“Stand over there in the shadows. I’ll send her over to have a word with you. But only five minutes, you understand? When I finish lighting my lamps, we leave.”

Juliette obediently moved into the shadows beneath the looming Tower. Dusk had completely claimed the courtyard of the Temple and in her drab brown gown and kerchief she knew she’d be virtually invisible to any but the closest observer.

The queen was not ill dressed. Her black cloak was well made and the muff she carried was of marten fur, but her garments might as well have belonged to a prosperous innkeeper’s wife instead of the queen of France.

Poor Marie Antoinette had lost everything but her family—and even some of them had been taken from her.

The king’s brothers, the Comte de Provence and the Comte d’Artois, had escaped to Austria and his spinster sisters to Italy.

Marie Antoinette’s firstborn son, Louis Joseph, the dauphin, had died tragically in 1789 at the same time the queen’s entire world was vanishing around her.