don--and of a quickness of wit and honesty of aim
unrivalled in the whole body of the Convention, and with these gifts he
harassed to no little purpose those smooth-tongued legislators of
the Gironde, whom Dumouriez called the Jesuits of the Revolution. His
popularity with the men of the Mountain and with the masses of Paris was
growing daily, and the crushing reply he had that day delivered to the
charges preferred by Vergniaud was likely to increase his fame.

Well, therefore, might he sit with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes
chewing the butt of his pen and smiling to himself at the memory of
the enthusiasm of which he had been the centre a half-hour ago. Here,
indeed, was something that a man might live for, something that a
man might take pride in, and something that might console a man for a
woman's treachery. What, indeed, could woman's love give him that might
compare with this? Was it not more glorious far to make himself the
admired, the revered, the very idol of those stern men, than the beloved
of a simpering girl? The latter any coxcomb with a well-cut coat might
encompass, but the former achievement was a man's work.

And yet, for all that he reasoned thus speciously and philosophically,
there was a moment when his brow grew clouded and his eyes lost their
sparkle. He was thinking of that night in the inn at Boisvert, when he
had knelt beside her and she had lied to him. He was thinking of the
happiness, that for a few brief hours had been his, until he discovered
how basely she had deceived him, and for all the full-flavour of his
present elation it seemed to him that in that other happiness which he
now affected to despise by contrast, there had dwelt a greater, a more
contenting sweetness.

Would she come to Paris? He had asked himself that question every day
of the twenty that were spent since his return. And in the meantime the
Vicomte d'Ombreval lay in the prison of the Luxembourg awaiting trial.
That he had not yet been arraigned he had to thank the efforts of La
Boulaye. The young Deputy had informed Robespierre that for reasons
of his own he wished the ci-devant Vicomte, to be kept in prison some
little time, and the Incorruptible, peering at him over his horn-rimmed
spectacles, had shrugged his shoulders and answered:

"But certainly, cher Caron, since it is your wish. He will be safe in
the Luxembourg."

He had pressed his protege for a reason, but La Boulaye had evaded the
question, promi