"No one less, friend."
"That's all right."
"Yes. Good-day, Citizen Fouquier."
Fouquier Tinville, calm and pale, opening wide, according to habit, his large black eyes shaded by his bushy eyebrows, at this moment entered by a side-door, his register in his hand, and a bundle of papers under his arm. "Good-day, Simon," said he; "anything new?"
"Several things. First, a denunciation from Citizen Théodore, who carried the head of the Princess Lamballe. I will introduce him to you."
Fouquier fixed his scrutinizing glance upon the patriot, who, notwithstanding his strong nerves, felt rather uneasy while undergoing this examination.
"Théodore!" said he; "and who is Théodore?"
"I!" said the man in the jerkin.
"You carried the head of the Princess Lamballe?" said the public accuser, with an unmistakable expression of doubt.
"I. Rue Saint Antoine."