"Speech with Lord Flesselles," replied Billet.
"Can't sir," answered the man. "He is completing the list for the militia which the City is to raise."
"Capital!" rejoined Billet; "I am also organizing a militia, and as I have three thousand men ready under arms, I am worth a Flesselles who is only going to get his together. Let me speak with him, and right off. If you like, just look out of the window at my soldiers."
One rapid glance on the waterside was enough for the servant who hastened to notify the Traders' Provost, to whom, as emphasis to his message, he pointed out the army.
This sight inspired respect in the provost for the man commanding them: he left the council and came into the ante-room. Perceiving Billet, he smiled at guessing the kind of man he must be.
"Were you wanting me?" he challenged.
"If you are Provost Flesselles," responded Billet.
"Yes; how can I serve you? please, be quick, for I am very busy."
"How many powers do you acknowledge in France, my Lord Provost?" queried Billet.
"Hem, that is just how one looks at it," replied the politician. "If you ask Bailly the Mayor he will say 'The National Assembly.' If Lord Dreux, he would say only one—'the King.'"