re are men who call themselves teachers of the people,
who would ask no better life than free quarters on Boivin. And so
saying, he hurriedly withdrew, leaving me face to face with my host.

"So then, youngster," said Boivin, as he scratched his ear thoughtfully,
"I have gained a pensioner! _Parbleu!_ if life were not an uncertain
thing in these times, there's no saying how long we might not be blessed
with your amiable company."

"You shall not be burthened heavily, _Citoyen_" said I; "Let me have my
dinner--I have not eaten since yesterday morning, and I will go my ways
peacefully."

"Which means straight to Robespierre's dwelling, to tell him that I have
turned you out of doors--eh, sirrah?"

"You mistake me much," said I; "this would be sorry gratitude for eaten
bread; I meant what I said--that I will not be an unwelcome guest, even
though the alternative be, as it is, something very nigh starvation."

Boivin did not seem clearly to comprehend the meaning of what I said; or
perhaps my whole conduct and bearing puzzled him, for he made no reply
for several seconds. At last, with a kind of sigh, he said,

"Well well, it can not be helped; it must be even as he wished, though
the odds are, he'll never think more about him Come, lad, you shall have
your dinner."

I followed him through a narrow, unlighted passage, which opened into a
room, where, at a long table, were seated a number of men and boys at
dinner. Some were dressed as cooks--others wore a kind of gray blouse,
with a badge upon the arm bearing the name "Boivin" in large letters,
and were, as I afterward learned, the messengers employed to carry
refreshments into the prison, and who, by virtue of this sign, were
freely admitted within the gates.

Taking my place at the board, I proceeded to eat with a voracity that
only a long fast could have excused; and thus took but little heed of my
companions, whose solecisms in table etiquette might otherwise have
amused me.

"Art a _marmiton_, thou?" asked an elderly man in a cook's cap, as he
stared fixedly at me for some seconds.

"No," said I, helping myself, and eating away as before.

"Thou can'st never be a commissionaire, friend, with an appetite like
that," cried another; "I wouldn't trust thee to carry a casserole to
the fire."

"Nor shall I be," said I, coolly.

"What trade, then, has the good fortune to possess your shining
abilities?"

"A trade that thrives well just now, friend-pass me th