Since Arno and Roger-Pierre had rescued her, Élise had been advised to lay low. That's why she found herself polishing the stairs railing at the moment. Denis said there had been talk of banning women's political clubs after Marat's death. His funeral had apparently been one of the grandest festivals ever held in Paris. His ashes had been taken to the Panthéon, to rest with Voltaire. She was horrified to see the man was so well loved.

A great darkness had fallen over the city, the shadow of the Illuminati. Robespierre had been elected to "The Committee of Public Safety", the tombs of the kings of France had been profaned by government decree, and young bachelors were now being conscripted into the army for the war abroad. Since her return, Jean Roland had moved out, but his wife was still in custody, as was Clavière, and many other Girondins. Execution was almost certain.

Gustave had apologized to her for not coming to trial, her letter of request had been delayed by Illuminati intervention, though she doubted even he could have saved her from the wrath of the crowd and their verdict.

Timothee had grown increasingly worried. He had hired two new guards for the chateau: Rolf and Armand. Élise did not know if Robespierre or Weishaupt knew about the chateau. If they did, it seemed it was only a matter of time before the enemy came knocking at their door.

Arno was out somewhere, she did not know where. With her confined to the mansion, his workload in the city had doubled.

Even at death's door, she had not confessed her love for him. Would she ever? The same questions haunted her. Was he truly loyal to the cause? Could she be a wife and mother with the life she led? Not without significant sacrifice. Could she justify sacrificing that? Would the Templars even allow her?

Timothee stopped to speak to her. The stress induced sore on his lip, a blemish he frequently grew during troubled times, was the most hideous she had yet seen.

"It's like I don't even recognize the city anymore, Élise! My beautiful city, minds once flourishing with ideas of progress, has become...something else, something ugly! Something hideous!"

Élise looked down solemnly. "I am well aware, Monsieur."

"It's more than the Apple! Something about the Illuminati's message...it...fulfills something in the people! They've become..." He struggled to find the words.

Then the front door opened. They both looked over. It was Martin.

"Monsieur, they've got Bailly! He's been arrested!"

"Merde!" Timothee said, uncharacteristically vulgar.

He turned back to Élise. "We might not be able to keep you laying low for much longer, Élise. That city is falling to pieces, and we need all the competent blades out there we can get."

"I understand, sir," she said, meekly. She was humbled by recent events.

Chobat, angry faced, turned to Martin and began walking towards him. "How did they get him? Where have they taken him? Tell me everything you know!"

She returned to her mundane duties.