"Good, good; he laughs best who laughs last. And now, Capet, pick up my last, and come and finish your shoe, or by thunder!—"
"And I," said Lorin, turning deadly pale, and advancing a step forward, his hands clinched, and his teeth set,— "I tell you he shall not pick up your last, he shall not make shoes; do you hear, idiot? Oh, yes! you have your big sword there, but I am no more afraid of it than I am of yourself. Just you dare to draw it."
"Ah! massacre," roared Simon, turning pale with rage.
At this moment two women entered the court. One of them held a paper in her hand. She addressed herself to the sentinel.
"Sergeant," cried the sentinel, "it is Tison's daughter, who asks to see her mother."
"Let her pass, since the Council of the Temple permit it," said Lorin, who did not wish to leave for a moment, for fear Simon should avail himself of his absence and again beat the child.
The sentinel allowed the two women to pass; but hardly had they ascended four steps on the dark staircase, when they encountered Maurice Lindey, who was descending into the court. It was almost dark, so that he was unable to distinguish their features. Maurice stopped them.
"Who are you, citizens?" said he; "and what do you want?"
"I am Sophie Tison," said one of the women; "I obtained permission to visit my mother, and have come to see her."