10:47P.M.
Nana turned away from the guillotine and made her way quickly through the sparse crowd in the Place de la Révolution. With the guillotine working day and night these last months, beheadings had become too common to draw large crowds. Unless the victim was someone of fame or high noble rank, the executioner’s work went virtually unnoticed except by a small group of the morbid and fanatic.
She moved quickly down the street, drawing her cloak closely about her, the guillotine and its few acolytesdisappearing into the fog behind her. She had come to witness the execution of Dupree so that she might be free of the ugliness he had brought into her life. But the fear and ugliness seemed to corrode her soul—and what she had just witnessed had only added to her sense of horror.
She doubted she would ever forget Dupree’s joyful, loving smile as they had decapitated Anne Dupree.
11:55P.M.
“Dupree?” François asked Nana as soon as she entered Monsieur Radon’s small house on the right bank of the Seine.
“Guillotined,” she said succinctly.
“You’re sure?”
“I watched it. I had to be sure.” Nana turned to the little boy who sat on the sofa next to Catherine. “Are you ready for your journey, Louis Charles?”
“Oh, yes, this is all most interesting.” The child’s blue eyes blazed with excitement as he leaned his head against Catherine’s shoulder. “Catherine says I’m to go to America, but she’s not sure if they still have savages in Charleston.”
“Well, if they don’t, I’m sure Juliette will find something of equal interest for you to see. She may even go searching for savages herself to paint.” Catherine smiled gently at him. “You’ll have a good life there, Louis Charles.”
“I wish you were going with me,” the boy whispered. “I’ll miss you, Catherine.”
“Perhaps you’ll be able to come back someday.” Catherine pressed a kiss on his forehead. “Or maybe we’ll come to Charleston to visit you.”
“But not now?”
“There are many people François still needs to help. Our place is here, Louis Charles.” Catherine felt an aching sympathy for the little boy. He no soonerformed an attachment than it was severed. “Believe me, you’ll learn to love Juliette and Jean Marc.”
Louis Charles was silent for a long time. “I wanted to meet Michel.”
“Someday.” Catherine thought a moment. “You could write to him. Michel would love to get letters from across the sea.”
“Would he correspond with me?”
“I’m sure he would. But you’ll have to be very careful what you say.”
“I’m used to that.” Louis Charles expression brightened. “Letters…”
Jean Marc came in the front door, his gaze going at once to François. “All safe?”
François nodded at the boy. “All safe.”
Jean Marc smiled at Louis Charles. “I’m Jean Marc Andreas, and I’m delighted to meet you.”
“Monsieur Andreas.” Louis Charles stiffly inclined his head. “It’s very kind of you to help me.”
Jean Marc lifted a brow at the child’s formality and turned to Nana. His amusement was replaced by seriousness. “Dupree didn’t give you any hint what he intended for Juliette?”
She stiffened. “Of course not. Do you think I’d let her walk into a trap? What kind of—”
“Wait.” Jean Marc held up his hand. “I’m not accusing you. I think you’ve done splendidly. We simply didn’t expect him to strike at us today. We thought he’d wait until after the business at the Temple.” He paused. “Juliette is outside saying good-bye to Robert and Marie. They’re taking a wagon with some of our belongings to Vasaro. I understand you’re to go with them.”
“What?” Nana’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m not going anywhere. No, absolutely not. I don’t wish to leave Paris.”
“It’s not safe for you here now,” François said quietly. “Robespierre is going to be in a panic when he doesn’t find the boy at Le Havre. He may have let you go tonight, but tomorrow he’ll start with a vengeance to rout out all who might have had a part in the boy’s escape. I’m sure he’s already sent men to the Temple topick up Pirard, and the National Guard may be at the Café du Chat waiting for you.”
“Good, then they’ll pick up that bastard Raymond. I could scarcely tolerate him these last weeks.” Nana scowled.“Dieu, I hate the country. Can’t I go to Marseilles? It’s not Paris, but at least there will be people.”
