The child shuddered, but made no movement to avoid the blow. Those present uttered a cry expressive of their disgust. Lorin did more. Before the wretch could lower his arm he darted forward and seized him by the wrist.
"Will you let me go?" roared Simon, purple with rage.
"Come, there is no harm," said Fouquier, "in a mother loving her child. Tell us in what way your mother loved you, Capet. It may be useful to her."
The young prisoner started at the idea of being useful to his mother.
"She loves me as a mother loves her son, sir," said he; "there are not two ways for mothers to love their sons, or sons to love their mothers."
"And I, little serpent, declare that you have told me your mother—"
"You have dreamed that," interrupted Lorin, quietly, "you must often have the nightmare, Simon."
"Lorin! Lorin!" growled Simon, grinding his teeth.
"Yes, again, Lorin. There is no way of beating Lorin, since he chastises the wicked; there is no way to denounce him for what he did in arresting your arm, as it was done before General Hanriot and Fouquier Tinville, who approve of it, and they are not lukewarm in the cause. There is then no way to bring him to the guillotine, as you did poor Héloïse Tison. It is very grievous, very vexatious, very enraging; still it is so, my poor Simon!"
"Later! later!" replied the shoemaker, with his mocking laugh.