me to walk home with you." Therewith the shrieks and
shouts and gesticulations increased. "Another impertinent! Another
traitor! Drown him! Drown them both! To the Seine! To the Seine!" A
burly fellow rushed forward, and the rest made a plunging push. The
outstretched arm of De Mauleon kept the ringleader at bay. "Mes enfans,"
cried Victor with a calm clear voice, "I am not an Imperialist. Many
of you have read the articles signed Pierre Firmin, written against the
tyrant Bonaparte when he was at the height of his power. I am Pierre
Firmin--make way for me." Probably not one in the crowd had ever read a
word written by Pierre Firmin, nor even heard of the name. But they
did not like to own ignorance; and that burly fellow did not like to
encounter that arm of iron which touched his throat. So he cried out,
"Oh! if you are the great Pierre Firmin, that alters the case. Make way
for the patriot Pierre!"

"But," shrieked a virago, thrusting her baby into De Mauleon's face,
"the other is the Imperialist, the capitalist, the vile Duplessis. At
least we will have him."

De Mauleon suddenly snatched the baby from her, and said, with
imperturbable good temper, "Exchange of prisoners. I resign the man, and
I keep the baby."

No one who does not know the humours of a Parisian mob can comprehend
the suddenness of popular change, or the magical mastery over crowds
which is effected by quiet courage and a ready joke. The group was
appeased at once. Even the virago laughed; and when De Mauleon restored
the infant to her arms, with a gold piece thrust into its tiny clasp,
she eyed the gold, and cried, "God bless you, citizen!" The two
gentlemen made their way safely now.

"M. de Mauleon," said Duplessis, "I know not how to thank you. Without
your seasonable aid I should have been in great danger of life;
and--would you believe it?--the woman who denounced and set the mob on
me was one of the objects of a charity which I weekly dispense to the
poor."

"Of course I believe that. At the Red clubs no crime is more denounced
than that of charity. It is the 'fraud against Egalite'--a vile trick
of the capitalist to save to himself the millions he ought to share with
all by giving a sou to one. Meanwhile, take my advice, M. Duplessis,
and quit Paris with your young daughter. This is no place for rich
Imperialists at present."

"I perceived that before to-day's adventure. I distrust the looks of my
very servants, and shall depart wit