ly, and
observed:

"Times are changed. We can call you _Barbaroux_ now the Convention is
recalling the proscribed.... Now I think of it, Desmahis, engrave me a
portrait of Charlotte Corday, will you?"

A woman, a tall, handsome brunette, enveloped in furs, entered the shop
and bestowed on the _citoyen_ Blaise a little discreet nod that implied
intimacy. It was Julie Gamelin; but she no longer bore that dishonoured
name, she preferred to be called the _citoyenne_ widow Chassagne, and
wore, under her mantle, a red tunic in honour of the red shirts of the
terror. Julie had at first felt a certain repulsion towards Evariste's
mistress; anything that had come near her brother was odious to her. But
the _citoyenne_ Blaise, after Evariste's death, had found an asylum for
the unhappy mother in the attics of the _Amour peintre_. Julie had also
taken refuge there; then she had got employment again at the fashionable
milliner's in the Rue des Lombards. Her short hair _a la victime_, her
aristocratic looks, her mourning weeds had won the sympathies of the
gilded youth. Jean Blaise, whom Rose Thevenin had pretty well thrown
over, offered her his homage, which she accepted. Still Julie was fond
of wearing men's clothes, as in the old tragic days; she had a fine
_Muscadin_ costume made for her and often went, huge baton and all
complete, to sup at some tavern at Sevres or Meudon with a girl friend,
a little assistant in a fashion shop. Inconsolable for the loss of the
young noble whose name she bore, this masculine-minded Julie found the
only solace to her melancholy in a savage rancour; every time she
encountered Jacobins, she would set the passers-by on them, crying
"Death, death!" She had small leisure left to give to her mother, who
alone in her room told her beads all day, too deeply shocked at her
boy's tragic death to feel the grief that might have been expected. Rose
was now the constant companion of Elodie who certainly got on amicably
with her step-mothers.

"Where is Elodie?" asked the _citoyenne_ Chassagne.

Jean Blaise shook his head; he did not know. He never did know; he made
it a point of honour not to.

Julie had come to take her friend with her to see Rose Thevenin at
Monceaux, where the actress lived in a little house with an English
garden.

At the Conciergerie Rose Thevenin had made the acquaintance of a big
army-contractor, the _citoyen_ Montfort. She had been released first, by
Jean Blaise's intervention