bunal; punishment must likewise be provided for
those who refuse to wait. And how many others, prouder and more pressing
yet, begrudging their judges and headsmen their death, perish by their
own hand! The mania of killing is equalled by the mania to die. Here, in
the Conciergerie, is a young soldier, handsome, vigorous, beloved; he
leaves behind him in the prison an adorable mistress; she bade him "Live
for me!"--he will live neither for her nor love nor glory. He lights his
pipe with his act of accusation. And, a Republican, for he breathes
liberty through every pore, he turns Royalist that he may die. The
Tribunal tries its best to save him, but the accused proves the
stronger; judges and jury are forced to let him have his way.

Evariste's mind, naturally of an anxious, scrupulous cast, was filled to
overflowing through the lessons he learned at the Jacobins and the
contemplation of life with suspicions and alarms. At night, as he paced
the ill-lighted streets on his way to Elodie's, he fancied through every
cellar-grating he passed he caught a glimpse of a plate for printing off
forged assignats; in the dark recesses of the baker's and grocer's empty
shops he imagined storerooms bursting with provisions fraudulently held
back for a rise in prices; looking in at the glittering windows of the
eating-houses, he seemed to hear the talk of the speculators plotting
the ruin of the country as they drained bottles of Beaune and Chablis;
in the evil-smelling alleys he could see the very prostitutes trampling
underfoot the National cockade to the applause of elegant young
roisterers; everywhere he beheld conspirators and traitors. And he
thought: "Against so many foes, secret or declared, oh! Republic thou
hast but one succour; Saint Guillotine, save the fatherland!..."

Elodie would be waiting for him in her little blue chamber above the
_Amour peintre_. To let him know he might come in, she used to set on
the window-sill her little watering-can beside the pot of carnations.
Now he filled her with horror, he seemed like a monster to her; she was
afraid of him,--and she adored him. All the night, clinging together in
a frantic embrace, the bloody-minded lover and the amorous girl
exchanged in silence frenzied kisses.

XIV

Rising at dawn, the Pere Longuemare, after sweeping out the room,
departed to say his Mass in a chapel in the Rue d'Enfer served by a
nonjuring priest. There were in Paris thousands of similar r