n propped on his
hand, his elbow resting on a table, looking abstractedly into space. In
a corner of the room two small children were playing languidly with a
set of bone tablets, inscribed with the letters of the alphabet. But
whatever the children were doing with the alphabet, they were certainly
not learning to read from it.

The room was of fair size and height, and by no means barely or shabbily
furnished. There was a pretty clock on the mantelpiece. On the wall were
hung designs for the decoration of apartments, and shelves on which were
ranged a few books.

The window was open, and on the sill were placed flowerpots; you
could scent the odour they wafted into the room. Altogether it was an
apartment suited to a skilled artisan earning high wages. From the room
we are now in, branched on one side a small but commodious kitchen; on
the other side, on which the door was screened by a portiere, with a
border prettily worked by female hands--some years ago, for it was faded
now--was a bedroom, communicating with one of less size in which the
children slept. We do not enter those additional rooms, but it may be
well here to mention them as indications of the comfortable state of
an intelligent skilled artisan of Paris, who thinks he can better that
state by some revolution which may ruin his employer.

Monnier started up at the entrance of Lebeau, and his face showed that
he did not share the dislike to the visit which that of the female
partner of his life had evinced. On the contrary, his smile was cordial,
and there was a hearty ring in the voice which cried out--

"I am glad to see you--something to do? Eh!"

"Always ready to work for liberty, mon brave."

"I hope so: what's in the wind now?"

"O Armand, be prudent--be prudent!" cried the woman, piteously. "Do not
lead him into further mischief, Monsieur Lebeau;" as she faltered forth
the last words, she bowed her head over the two little ones, and her
voice died in sobs.

"Monnier," said Lebeau, gravely, "Madame is right. I ought not to lead
you into further mischief; there are three in the room who have better
claims on you than--"

"The cause of millions," interrupted Monnier.

"No."

He approached the woman and took up one of the children very tenderly,
stroking back its curls and kissing the face, which, if before surprised
and saddened by the mother's sob, now smiled gaily under the father's
kiss.

"Canst thou doubt, my Heloise," said the arti