So far he had not yet caught sight of his beloved, and slowly--very slowly--a ray of hope was filtering through the darkness of his despair.
The sentinel, who had stood aside for him, chaffed him for his intentness.
"Have you a sweetheart among these aristos, citizen ?" he asked.

"You seem to be devouring them with your eyes." Armand, with his rough clothes soiled with coal-dust, his face grimy and streaked with sweat, certainly looked to have but little in common with the ci-devant aristos who formed the hulk of the groups in the courtyard.

He looked up; the soldier was regarding him with obvious amusement, and at sight of Armand's wild, anxious eyes he gave vent to a coarse jest.
"Have I made a shrewd guess, citizen ?" he said.

"Is she among that lot ?" "I do not know where she is," said Armand almost involuntarily.
"Then why don't you find out ?" queried the soldier.
The man was not speaking altogether unkindly.

Armand, devoured with the maddening desire to know, threw the last fragment of prudence to the wind.