“I don’t want you to see that.”

“All right.”

“Go away just before we enter Les Halles. Otherwise you’ll be tempted to stay.”

“Will you look for me in the crowd? I don’t know where I shall be.”

“No. I shan’t look for you. Don’t try to wave at me or anything. I shall stand proud. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Did you see Master Villon?”

“No. I don’t think he’s in Paris.”

“He’ll go the same way as me, you know.”

“You’d have been all right if it wasn’t for that cursed de Cygne.”

His father shook his head.

“I’d have swung for something sooner or later. I could have swung so many times before.”

“If he comes back, I’ll kill him.”

“No you won’t. That’s an order. I don’t want you to swing as well.”

“What am I to do, Papa?” The boy’s voice suddenly started to break down.

“Get yourself apprenticed to a trade. You know where the money’s hidden. Enough there to pay a master to take you on. I was going to get you apprenticed to someone next year.”

“Why?”

“Not much money in thieving really. And you never have any peace. And then … there’s this.” He shrugged. “It’s my fault. I’ve taught you all I know about thieving, which is a lot, and it’s still a waste of time.”

“I dunno, Papa.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I wish I had a mother.”

“Well you don’t, so do as I say.”

“I suppose so.”

“As for de Cygne. Leave him alone. You’ll probably never see him again, but leave him alone. But there’s one thing you’ve got to know. About the nobles—not just de Cygne, all of them. They don’t care. Just remember that. Do what you have to do with them, because they have the power. I don’t know if they’ll always have it, but they do now, and they’ll have it as long as you live, my son. So don’t ever go against them. But just remember, no matter what they say, don’t ever trust them. Because they don’t care about you, and they never will, because you’re not one of them.”

He looked up. The jailor had come in.

“Say good-bye to your father now,” he said to his son. They kissed. “Now go.”

An hour later Richard heard the crowd roar, and knew that he didn’t have a father anymore.

Chapter Nine

•  1897  •

As the month of October began and Jules Blanchard considered his family, he decided that he wasn’t worried about his daughter, Marie. She was everything a young woman of her age should be.