I met Lecamus at the tent-door. He was coming out, very feeble and
tottering, with that dazed look which (according to me) has always been
characteristic of him. He had a bundle of papers in his hand. He had
been setting in order his report of what had happened to him, to be
submitted to the Maire. 'Monsieur,' he said, with some irritation
(which I forgave him), 'you have always been unfavourable to me. I owe
it to you that this unhappy drunkard has been sent to disturb me in my
feebleness and the discharge of a public duty.'

'My good Monsieur Lecamus,' said I, 'you do my recollection too much
honour. The fact is, I had forgotten all about you and your public duty.
Accept my excuses. Though indeed your supposition that I should have
taken the trouble to annoy you, and your description of that
good-for-nothing as an unhappy drunkard, are signs of intolerance which
I should not have expected in a man so favoured.'

This speech, though too long, pleased me, for a man of this species, a
revolutionary (are not all visionaries revolutionaries?) is always, when
occasion offers, to be put down. He disarmed me, however, by his
humility. He gave a look round. 'Where can I go?' he said, and there was
pathos in his voice. At length he perceived Madame Dupin sitting almost
motionless on the road. 'Ah!' he said, 'there is my place.' The man, I
could not but perceive, was very weak. His eyes were twice their natural
size, his face was the colour of ashes; through his whole frame there
was a trembling; the papers shook in his hand. A compunction seized my
mind: I regretted to have sent that piece of noise and folly to disturb
a poor man so suffering and weak. 'Monsieur Lecamus,' I said, 'forgive
me. I acknowledge that it was inconsiderate. Remain here in comfort, and
I will find for this unruly fellow another place of confinement.'

'Nay,' he said, 'there is my place,' pointing to where Madame Dupin sat.
I felt disposed for a moment to indulge in a pleasantry, to say that I
approved his taste; but on second thoughts I forebore. He went tottering
slowly across the broken ground, hardly able to drag himself along. 'Has
he had any refreshment?' I asked of one of the women who were about.
They told me yes, and this restored my composure; for after all I had
not meant to annoy him, I had forgotten he was there--a trivial fault in
circumstances so exciting. I was more easy in my mind, however, I
confess it, when I saw that he had reache