October 6, 1789. In a tavern near the Sèvres Bridge, two strangers meet. One has white teeth; the other has rotten ones. They sit down at the table, open a bottle, and talk begins. It turns out they are people of similar professions—masters among masters. Their views differ only slightly: one regrets that Louis XVI was born a king, while the other regrets that the king was born at all. And the whispering near Louis’s ear becomes more and more insistent: “Paris is dangerous—deadly dangerous. You must run! Run!”