informed his guest had been the property of a ci-devant prince of the blood.
As the night wore on Captain Charlot grew boisterous and more confidential. He came at length to speak of the last capture they had made.
'I have taken prizes, Caron,' said he, 'which a king might not despise. But to-day—' He raised his eyes to the ceiling and wagged his head.
'Well?' quoth La Boulaye. 'What about to-day?'
'I have made a capture worth more than all the others put together. It was an indifferent-looking berline, and my men were within an ace of allowing it to pass. But I have a nose, mon cher'—and he tapped the organ with ludicrous significance—'and, bon Dieu, what affair! I can smell an aristocrat a league off. Down upon that coach I swooped like a hawk upon a sparrow. Within it sat two women, thickly veiled, and I give you my word that in a sense I pitied them, for not a doubt of it, but they were in the act of congratulating themselves upon their escape from France. But sentiment may become fatal if permitted to interfere with enterprise. Stifling my regrets I desired them to alight, and they being wise obeyed me without demur. I allowed them to retain their veils. I sought the sight of things other than women's faces, and a brief survey of the coach showed me where to bestow my attention. I lifted the back seat. It came up like the lid of the chest it was, and beneath it I discovered enough gold and silver plate to outweigh in value almost everything that I had ever taken. But that was by no means all. Under the front seat there was a chest of gold—louis d'ors they were, some two or three thousand at least—and, besides that, a little iron-bound box of gems which in itself was worth more than all the rest of the contents of that treasure-casket of a coach. I tell you, Caron, I dropped the lid of that seat in some haste, for I was not minded that my men should become as wise as I. I stepped down and bade, the women re-enter, and hither under strong escort I have brought them.'
'And these treasures?' asked La Boulaye.
'They are still in the coach below, with the women. I have told these that they shall spend the night there. To-morrow I shall see to them and give them their liberty—which is a more generous proceeding than might befall them at the hands of another. When they are gone comes the division of the spoil.' He closed one eye slowly, in a very ponderous wink. 'To my men I shall relegate the gold and silver plate as well as the money. For myself I shall only retain the little iron-bound box. My followers will account me more than generous and themselves more than satisfied. As for me, La Boulaye—by St. Guillotine, I am tempted to emigrate also and set up as an aristocrat myself in Prussia or England, for in that little box there is something more than a fortune. I asked you to-day whether you were minded to lay information against me in Paris. My faith, I am little concerned whether you do or not, for I think that before you can reach Paris, Captain Charlot Tardivet will be no more than a name in the Republican army. Abroad I shall call myself Charlot du Tardivet, and I shall sleep in fine linen and live on truffles and champagne. Caron, your health!'
He drained his glass, and laughed softly to himself as he set it down.
'Do you trust your men?' asked La Boulaye.
'Eh? Trust them? Name of a name! They know me. I have placed the ten most faithful ones on guard. They answer to the rest of us with their necks for the safety of their charge. Come hither, Caron.'
He rose somewhat unsteadily, and lurched across to the window. La Boulaye followed him, and gazing out under his indication, he beheld the coach by the blaze of a fire which the men had lighted to keep them from freezing at their post.
'Does that look secure?'
'Why, yes—secure enough. But if those fellows were to take it into their heads that it would be more profitable to share the prize among ten than among sixty?'
'Secreanom!!' swore Charlot impatiently. 'You do my wits poor credit. For what do you take me? Have I gone through so much, think you, without learning how little men are to be trusted? Faugh! Look at the porte- cochere. The gates are closed—aye, and locked, mon cher, and the keys are here, in my pocket. Do you imagine they are to be broken through without arousing anyone? And then, the horses. They are in the stables over there, and again, the keys are in my pocket. So that, you see, I do not leave everything to the honesty of my ten most faithful ones.'
'You have learned wisdom, not a doubt of it,' laughed the Deputy.
'In a hard school, Caron,' answered the Captain soberly. 'Aye, name of a name, in a monstrous hard school.'
He turned from the window, and the light of the tapers falling on his face, showed it heavily scored with lines of pain, testifying to the ugly memories which the Deputy's light words had evoked. Then suddenly he laughed, half-bitterly, half humourously.
'La, la!' said he. 'The thing's past. Charlot Tardivet the bridegroom of Bellecour and Captain Charlot of Dumouriez' army are different men-very different.'
He strode back to the table, filled his goblet, and gulped down the wine. Then he crossed to the fire and stood with his back to La Boulaye for a spell. When next he faced his companion all signs of emotion had cleared from his countenance. It was again the callous, reckless face of Captain Charlot, rendered a trifle more reckless and a trifle more callous by the wine-flush on his cheeks and the wine-glitter in his eye.
'Caron' said he, with a half-smile, 'shall we have these ladies in to supper?'
'God forbid!' ejaculated La Boulaye.
'Nay, but I will,' the other insisted, and he moved across to the window.
As he passed him, La Boulaye laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
'Not that, Charlot,' he begged impressively, his dark face very set. 'Plunder them, turn them destitute upon the world, if you will, but remember, at least, that they are women.'
Charlot laughed in his face.
'It is something to remember, is it not? They remembered it of our women, these aristocrats!'
There was so much ugly truth in the Captain's words, and such a suggestion of just, if bitter, retribution in his mental attitude, that La Boulaye released his arm, at a loss for further arguments wherewith to curb him.
'Paydi!' Charlot continued, 'I have a mind for a frolic. Does not justice give me the right to claim that these aristocrats shall amuse me?'
With an oath he turned abruptly, and pulled the casement open.
'Guyot!' he called, and a voice from below made answer to him.
'You will make my compliments to the citoyennes in the coach, Guyot, and tell them that the Citizen-captain Tardivet requests the honour of their company to supper.'
Then he went to the door, and calling Dame Capoulade, he bade her set two fresh covers; in which he was expeditiously obeyed. La Boulaye stood by the fire, his pale face impassive now and almost indifferent. Charlot returned to the window to learn from Guyot that the citoyennes thanked the Citizen-captain, but that they were tired and sought to be excused, asking nothing better than to be allowed to remain at peace in their carriage.
'Sacred name of a name!' he croaked, a trifle thickly, for the wine he had taken was mastering him more and more. 'Are they defying us? Since they will not accept an invitation, compel them to obey a command. Bring them up at once, Guyot.'
'At once, Captain,' was the answer, and Guyot went about the business.
Charlot closed the window and approached the table.
'They are coquettish these scented dames,' he mocked, as he poured himself out some wine. 'You are not drinking Caron.'
'It is perhaps wise that one of us should remain sober,' answered the Deputy quietly, for in spite of a certain sympathy with the feelings by which Charlot was actuated, he was in dead antipathy to this baiting of women that seemed toward.
Charlot made no answer. He drained his goblet and set it down with a bang. Then he flung himself into a chair, and stretching out his long, booted legs he began to hum the refrain of the 'Marseillaise.' Thus a few moments went by. Then there came a sound of steps upon the creaking stairs, and the gruff voice of the soldier urging the ladies to ascend more speedily.
At last the door opened and two women entered, followed by Guyot. Charlot lurched to his feet.
'You have come, Mesdames,' said he, forgetting the mode of address prescribed by the Convention, and clumsily essaying to make a leg. 'Be welcome! Guyot, go to the devil.'
For a moment or two after the soldier's departure the women remained in the shadow, then, at the
