ake up his mind
to that, the face or figure had already disappeared, gliding furtively
down some narrow unlighted by-street, without turning to look to right
or left, as if dreading fuller recognition. Armand felt a total stranger
in his own native city.

The terrible hours of the execution on the Place de la Revolution
were fortunately over, the tumbrils no longer rattled along the uneven
pavements, nor did the death-cry of the unfortunate victims resound
through the deserted streets. Armand was, on this first day of his
arrival, spared the sight of this degradation of the once lovely city;
but her desolation, her general appearance of shamefaced indigence and
of cruel aloofness struck a chill in the young man's heart.

It was no wonder, therefore, when anon he was wending his way slowly
back to his lodging he was accosted by a pleasant, cheerful voice, that
he responded to it with alacrity. The voice, of a smooth, oily timbre,
as if the owner kept it well greased for purposes of amiable speech,
was like an echo of the past, when jolly, irresponsible Baron de Batz,
erst-while officer of the Guard in the service of the late King,
and since then known to be the most inveterate conspirator for the
restoration of the monarchy, used to amuse Marguerite by his vapid,
senseless plans for the overthrow of the newly-risen power of the
people.

Armand was quite glad to meet him, and when de Batz suggested that a
good talk over old times would be vastly agreeable, the younger man
gladly acceded, The two men, though certainly not mistrustful of one
another, did not seem to care to reveal to each other the place where
they lodged. De Batz at once proposed the avant-scene box of one of the
theatres as being the safest place where old friends could talk without
fear of spying eyes or ears.

"There is no place so safe or so private nowadays, believe me, my young
friend," he said "I have tried every sort of nook and cranny in this
accursed town, now riddled with spies, and I have come to the conclusion
that a small avant-scene box is the most perfect den of privacy there
is in the entire city. The voices of the actors on the stage and the hum
among the audience in the house will effectually drown all individual
conversation to every ear save the one for whom it is intended."

It is not difficult to persuade a young man who feels lonely and
somewhat forlorn in a large city to while away an evening in the
companionship of a cheerfu