"They seem entirely rational to me."

"That's the tragedy of it, Monsieur. On the surface, all's well. Down

below . . ." A soft whistle. "Nobody home but the bats."

And now another voice emerges. Female and tentative and, at the

same time, harsh. Like a crow calling after her young.

"I'm sure no harm has been done."

I t's on e of the least-remarked perils of reading. You meet people often enough in print, you believe you really know them. So it is with me and Madame Royale. I feel as if I've blundered into her life, the way one stumbles into a water closet, mistaking it for a parlor.

And so, when the guard releases his grip and suffers me to rise- when the Duchess's pale, swaddled face swims toward me once more-I find myself casting my eyes down, for fear of what she will find there.

"Truly," she says, "there was no need for me to shout in such a manner. I was merely taken aback."

"And who could blame you, Madame?" Vidocq gives a mighty click of his heels. "In such a place as this, one expects only ghosts and goblins, not a pair of bungling taugenichts. I do apologize. They meant no harm."

And now, for the first time, the voice of French civilization becomes f lesh and blood. Which is to say a man of perhaps fifty years steps into the light. Dark-complected and full-lipped. The torso pulls slightly back, as if to deny the violence promised by the right leg, which is thrust forward. He's taut, in a way one no longer expects aristocrats to be, with just enough curl in his hair to hint of sauciers and tailors.

"I would entreat you," he says, "to keep closer watch on your nephews in the future."

"Never fear, Monsieur. Tomorrow morning, they'll be packed on the first mail coach for Strasbourg, and they will never trouble you again, I swear on God. Do you hear me, rogues? Now come along, we've just enough time to make the stage. . . ."

No s tage awai ts us, but Vidocq's carriage is stationed just where we left it, and from there, we beat a straight path to the city gates. It isn't until we're five minutes outside of Saint-Denis that Vidocq raps on the roof of the carriage and orders the driver to stop.

"Charles. Go play."

And so he does. Plunges into the surrounding meadow with the air of a medical student excused from his last examination.

"Well," says Vidocq, watching him grimly. "Our boy is a bit more complicated than he looks."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because unlike you, I was watching him. And I'm telling you he spied his moment. I'm telling you he waited till your head was turned, and he made a beeline for the Duchess."

"He was restless to leave, that's all. I told him we couldn't go until we'd seen her. He was-he was shortening the process."

"Oh, is that it?"

For another minute, we watch him crawling through rye, querying each wildf lower.

"He didn't seem to recognize her," I venture.

"True."

"Nor she him."

"That's also true. The only face that really consumed her was yours, Hector."

Stooping, he plucks a clover blossom, twirls it between his index and middle fingers.

"Your father met Madame Royale, didn't he?"

I nod.

"And how closely do you resemble him, Hector?"

"Well . . . quite a . . . quite a bit, I'm told."

"Very good. Now maybe you can explain why the sight of your father should bring a tear to the Duchess's eyes."

3 Germinal Year III Charles has repeatedly asked after his sister. Ive explained that Mme Royale's welfare is not w/in my sphere of responsibility, but of late, his inquiries have grown mr urgent. It occurs to me that happy tidings fm his sister cd be of great use in improving his spirits & health.

Asked Leblanc this a.m. if we might obtain audience w/ princess. Impossible, he said, w/o express consent of Comm for Public Safety. Perhaps I might petition them directly? My previous experiences with Comm (esp. Citizen Mathieu) being unpleasant, I resolved to take matter directly to Genrl Barras, who has often looked favorably on my petitions.

This very day, I visited him at his quarters. Was surprised to be granted immediate audience-and to find Genrl well disposed toward my request. He asked if I might like to join him for supper at his private apts-tomorrow eve-for purposes of discussing matter further. I readily consented.

5 Germinal Have now some cause to regret Barras' invitation. Details of our encounter too vulgar to recount. Suff ice it to say his protestations excited no small disgust in me. For holding my peace, however, I now have letter, personally signed, allowing me to visit Mme Royale on reg basis.

6 Germinal