In Paris, in July, a raging mob had stormed the Bastille, provoking circumspect aristocrats to uproot themselves and take refuge abroad. “She must go her own way. ‘Still, the comtesse has them well in hand. ‘It is all too probable that she would wish to change into lay clothing to escape recognition. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. ’ ‘Who is that?’ demanded Lucilla eagerly. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not. It was not for a week or a month. He would be so disappointed. Every day in the year you will witness such scenes. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. You're an angel of goodness.
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