After some light conversation, a young poet remarks "And which of the Muses leads you here to her temple, my Lord? Urania, perhaps? Or," with a nod to Miss Carrow, "are you a worshipper of Erato?"
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"I will be by your side as long as you wish," Mister Witherly replies. He and Miss Davenport make discreet inquiries of the sellers of food. Most plead ignorance, but a few (whose tongues have been loosened by more coins than would be strictly required for the provisions purchased) admit that a woman in armor has sometimes been seen being transported in a small boat back and forth between the Quartier Latin and the Île de la Cité under cover of darkness. One volunteers more information in a hurried whisper.
-- The Maid has come again to save France from tyranny! I say no more. --
The pair move on to a bookseller who has a number of volumes in English among his stock.
"A good day to you, my friends from across the sea," he says. "I have here a fine translation of Candide. It is most amusing! Or is there something else I can find for you? Poetry, history, philosophy?"
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