ly built,
sallow-complexioned gentleman very neatly dressed in black, wearing a
tie-wig under a round hat. The man fell back at sight of him, levelling
a spy-glass, then hailed him in a voice that rang with amazement.

"Moreau! Where the devil have you been hiding your-self these months?"

It was Le Chapelier, the lawyer, the leader of the Literary Chamber of
Rennes.

"Behind the skirts of Thespis," said Scaramouche.

"I don't understand."

"I didn't intend that you should. What of yourself, Isaac? And what of
the world which seems to have been standing still of late?"

"Standing still!" Le Chapelier laughed. "But where have you been, then?
Standing still!" He pointed across the square to a cafe under the shadow
of the gloomy prison. "Let us go and drink a bavaroise. You are of
all men the man we want, the man we have been seeking everywhere,
and--behold!--you drop from the skies into my path."

They crossed the square and entered the cafe.

"So you think the world has been standing still! Dieu de Dieu! I suppose
you haven't heard of the royal order for the convocation of the States
General, or the terms of them--that we are to have what we demanded, what
you demanded for us here in Nantes! You haven't heard that the order has
gone forth for the primary elections--the elections of the electors. You
haven't heard of the fresh uproar in Rennes, last month. The order was
that the three estates should sit together at the States General of
the bailliages, but in the bailliage of Rennes the nobles must ever be
recalcitrant. They took up arms actually--six hundred of them with their
valetaille, headed by your old friend M. de La Tour d'Azyr, and they
were for slashing us--the members of the Third Estate--into ribbons so as
to put an end to our insolence." He laughed delicately. "But, by God, we
showed them that we, too, could take up arms. It was what you yourself
advocated here in Nantes, last November. We fought them a pitched
battle in the streets, under the leadership of your namesake Moreau, the
provost, and we so peppered them that they were glad to take shelter in
the Cordelier Convent. That is the end of their resistance to the royal
authority and the people's will."

He ran on at great speed detailing the events that had taken place, and
finally came to the matter which had, he announced, been causing him to
hunt for Andre-Louis until he had all but despaired of finding him.

Nantes was sending fifty delega