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 The man pointed to the roof of the farmhouse, which could be seen some distance away, above the trees.

"Do you see the roof, monsieur le marquis?"

"Yes."

"Do you see what is above it?"

"Floating?"

"Yes."

"It is a flag."

"The Tricolor," said the man.

This was the object which had already attracted the marquis's attention when he was on the top of the dune.

Are they not sounding the tocsin?" asked the marquis.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Evidently on your account."

"But it can't be heard."

"The wind prevents it."

The man continued, "Have you seen your placard?"

"Yes."

"They are searching for you;" and glancing towards the farm, he added, "There is a half battalion there."

"Of repubicans [sic]?"

"Parisians."

"Well," said the marquis, "let us go on."

And he took a step in the direction of the farm.

The man seized him by the arm.

"Don't go there."

"And where would you have me go?"

"Home with me."

The marquis looked at the beggar.

"Listen, marquis, my home is not fine, but it is safe. A hut lower than a cave. For a floor, a bed of seaweed, for ceiling, a roof of branches and grass. Come. You would be shot at the farm. With me you will go to sleep. You must be tired; and to-morrow morning the Blues will march away, and you can go wherever you please."

The marquis. scrutinized the man.

"On which side are you?" asked the marquis. "Are you a republican? Are you a royalist?"

"I am poor."

"Neither royalist, nor republican?"