ve
said, on the staircase, he ran up a few steps till he could see the door
of the Thuilliers' apartment.

"At last!" he cried, "fame, fortune, happiness have come to me; but,
above all, I can now give myself the joy of vengeance. After Dutocq and
Cerizet, I will crush _you_, vile bourgeois brood!"

So saying, he shook his fist at the innocent door. Then he turned and
ran out; the popular saying that the earth could not hold him, was true
at that moment of his being.

The next day, for he could not restrain any longer the tempest that was
swelling within him, la Peyrade went to see Thuillier in the bitterest
and most hostile of moods. What was therefore his amazement when, before
he had time to put himself on guard and stop the demonstration of union
and oblivion, Thuillier flung himself into his arms.

"My friend," cried the municipal councillor, as he loosened his clasp,
"my political fortune is made; this morning all the newspapers, without
exception, have spoken of the seizure of my pamphlet; and you ought to
see how the opposition sheets have mauled the government."

"Simple enough," said la Peyrade, not moved by this enthusiasm; "you are
a topic for them, that's all. But this does not alter the situation; the
prosecution will be only the more determined to have you condemned."

"Well, then," said Thuillier, proudly raising his head, "I will go to
prison, like Beranger, like Lamennais, like Armand Carrel."

"My good fellow, persecution is charming at a distance; but when you
hear the big bolts run upon you, you may be sure you won't like it as
well."

"But," objected Thuillier, "prisoners condemned for political offences
are always allowed to do their time in hospital if they like. Besides,
I'm not yet convicted. You said yourself you expected to get me
acquitted."

"Yes, but since then I have heard things which make that result very
doubtful; the same hand that withheld your cross has seized your
pamphlet; you are being murdered with premeditation."

"If you know who that dangerous enemy is," said Thuillier, "you can't
refuse to point him out to me."

"I don't know him," replied la Peyrade; "I only suspect him. This is
what you get by playing too shrewd a game."

"Playing a shrewd game!" said Thuillier, with the curiosity of a man who
is perfectly aware that he has nothing of that kind on his conscience.

"Yes," said la Peyrade, "you made a sort of decoy of Celeste to attract
young bloods to your s