had earned; there was not even a single word of commendation.
Instead, the President, ever impassive, asked a question, a question that further quickened the prisoner's pulses.
'You say that this man proclaimed himself an agent of the Committee of Public Safety. Did you take steps to verify that this was not true?'
The Citizen Simon's mouth fell open. He stared foolishly. The question was coldly repeated.
'Did you take steps to verify that the Citizen Moreau is not one of our agents?'
Higher mounted the zealous patriot's amazement.
'You know his name, Citizen-President!'
'Answer my question.'
'But ... But ...' The Citizen Simon was bewildered. He sensed here something that was entirely wrong. He stammered, paused, then plunged precipitatedly. 'Why, this man is known to be a constant associate of the ci-devant Baron de Batz, whom I have told you that I surprised in the act of attempting to enter the Temple.'
'That is not what I asked you.' Le Chapelier's voice became of an increasing asperity. 'Do you know, citizen, that you do not impress me very favourably. I have a low opinion of men who cannot answer questions. It argues something amiss either with their sagacity or their honesty.'
'But, Citizen-President ...'
'Silence! You will withdraw, and wait in the antechamber until I send for you again. Take your men with you. Citizen Moreau, you will remain.' He tinkled a bell on his table.
Simon's ugly mouth was twisted in angry astonishment. But he dared offer no answer to so definite an order from a despot invested with the authority of that sacred trinity, Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity.
The usher appeared, and Simon, scowling his chagrin, marched out of the presence followed by his guards. The tall door closed, leaving André-Louis and Le Chapelier alone together.
The deputy regarded the prisoner solemnly for some moments. Then the thin lips smiled curiously.
'I heard some days ago that you were in Paris, André. I was wondering when you would have the politeness to pay me a visit.'
André-Louis met dryness with dryness.
'Acquit me of impoliteness, Isaac. I feared to intrude upon so busy a man.'
'I see. Well, you are here at last.'
They continued to look at each other. André-Louis found the situation almost droll, but not very hopeful.
'Tell me,' said Le Chapelier presently. 'To what extent are you involved with this de Batz?'
'He is a friend of mine.'
'Not a very desirable friend in these days, especially for a man of your history.'
'Considering my history, I am not perhaps a very desirable friend for him.'
'Perhaps not. But my concern is with you, now that you have had the clumsiness to allow yourself to be taken. What the devil am I to do with you?'
'I appreciate the concern, my dear Isaac. You will believe, I am sure, that I am desolated to be the cause of it.'
The President's myopic eyes considered him grimly.
'I have no difficulty in believing it. Fate, it seems, is determined to fling us across each other's paths however we may strive to travel in opposite directions. Tell me frankly, André: What is the truth of this business at the Temple last night?'
'But how should I know? If you choose to believe the ridiculous story of that foul dog who brought me here ...'
'My difficulty is that belief in his story is not to be avoided. And we want to avoid it: not only I, myself, but my colleagues on the Committee of Public Safety. Your arrest gives it an awkward measure of confirmation. You are extraordinarily inopportune, André.'
'I make you my apologies, Isaac.'
'Of course, I could have you quietly guillotined.'
'I should prefer it to be done quietly if it must be done. I have always deprecated ostentation.'
'Unfortunately, there's a debt between us.'
'My dear Isaac! What is a debt between friends?'
'Shall we be serious?'
'If you can tell me of a more serious situation than mine you will astonish me.'
Le Chapelier made a movement of impatience. 'You cannot suppose, as you seem to be pretending, that I do not desire to help you?'
'I have already perceived with gratitude indications of it. But there must be a limit to your power in a State in which any ragamuffin may dictate to a minister.'
'One of these days, Scaramouche, you'll sacrifice your head for a retort. At the moment you are luckier than you know. Probably luckier than you deserve, not only in that chance brings you before me instead of before the assembled Committee, but because the general situation demands that Simon's story should not be believed. If you and your friends have been trying to rescue the heretofore Queen, you have been uselessly endangering your necks. I'll tell you a secret. Negotiations with Vienna are well advanced for her release in exchange for Bournonville and the other deputies now in Austrian hands. Knowledge that an attempt has been made to rescue her might inflame the populace and raise obstacles to a desirable political measure. The tale of this attempt to enter the Temple we could brush aside. But your arrest creates a difficulty. There must be awkward disclosures when we put you on your trial.'
'I am desolated to prove so inconvenient.'
Le Chapelier ignored the interruption. 'On the other hand, if I set you at liberty, we shall have that fellow Simon stirring up trouble and denouncing us all as having been bought by Pitt and Coburg.'
'My poor Isaac! You appear to be upon the horns of a dilemma. Your perplexities appropriate the sympathy I was reserving for myself.'
'Devil take you, André!' Le Chapelier slapped the table with his hand. 'Will you cease to play Scaramouche, and show me what I am to do?' He got up. 'It is anything but easy. I am not the Committee, after all; and I shall have to render some account to my colleagues. On what grounds can I let you go?'
He came forward, and set a hand on André-Louis's shoulder. 'Short of mounting the scaffold in your place, there is nothing I will not do to save you.'
'My dear Isaac!' This time there was no lightness in André-Louis's tone.
'You don't flatter me if it surprises you. There was that affair at Coblentz.'
'The cases are not by any means parallel. There I had no duty to anyone, and I was consequently free to assist you. You, unfortunately, are saddled with a duty to your office, which will hardly ...'
Le Chapelier interrupted him. 'My office! Ha! My duty to that wears thin, André. Our revolution has taken a queer twist. There are few of its original architects left. I might easily have gone with the Girondins—the last of those who stood for order.'
André-Louis thought that he held the explanation of that strained, haunted look which he had discovered on Le Chapelier's face. The man must be sorely ridden indeed by misgivings and fears to permit himself these expressions.
He took his hand from André-Louis's shoulder, and paced away again to the table and back, his chin in his neck-cloth, his pallid brow furrowed by thought. Suddenly he checked to ask a question.
'Will you accept service if I offer it to you?'
'Service?'
'It is at least to the good that you announced yourself to this fellow Simon as an agent of the Committee of Public Safety.'
'As an agent?' There was repudiation in the very tone of the question.
'Does it shock you? Are you not already an agent of the Bourbons? Is it unusual for agents to accept service from both sides at once?' Le Chapelier spoke contemptuously. 'I could explain that