ood whereby the Revolution was to be satiated and de Batz'
schemes enabled to mature. The most precious life in Europe even was
only to be saved if its price went to swell the pockets of de Batz, or
to further his future ambitions.

Times had indeed changed an entire nation. St. Just felt as sickened
with this self-seeking Royalist as he did with the savage brutes who
struck to right or left for their own delectation. He was meditating
immediate flight back to his lodgings, with a hope of finding there
a word for him from the chief--a word to remind him that men did live
nowadays who had other aims besides their own advancement--other ideals
besides the deification of self.

The curtain had descended on the first act, and traditionally, as the
works of M. de Moliere demanded it, the three knocks were heard again
without any interval. St. Just rose ready with a pretext for parting
with his friend. The curtain was being slowly drawn up on the second
act, and disclosed Alceste in wrathful conversation with Celimene.

Alceste's opening speech is short. Whilst the actor spoke it Armand had
his back to the stage; with hand outstretched, he was murmuring what
he hoped would prove a polite excuse for thus leaving his amiable host
while the entertainment had only just begun.

De Batz--vexed and impatient--had not by any means finished with his
friend yet. He thought that his specious arguments--delivered with
boundless conviction--had made some impression on the mind of the young
man. That impression, however, he desired to deepen, and whilst Armand
was worrying his brain to find a plausible excuse for going away, de
Batz was racking his to find one for keeping him here.

Then it was that the wayward demon Chance intervened. Had St. Just
risen but two minutes earlier, had his active mind suggested the
desired excuse more readily, who knows what unspeakable sorrow, what
heartrending misery, what terrible shame might have been spared both
him and those for whom he cared? Those two minutes--did he but know
it--decided the whole course of his future life. The excuse hovered on
his lips, de Batz reluctantly was preparing to bid him good-bye,
when Celimene, speaking common-place words enough in answer to her
quarrelsome lover, caused him to drop the hand which he was holding out
to his friend and to turn back towards the stage.

It was an exquisite voice that had spoken--a voice mellow and tender,
with deep tones in it that betr