“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. “François. 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. François 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 François 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 François. 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 François 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 forwardand 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.
