“Ah,” said Marat with a ghastly smile, “if it should come in my time—should I see that day—— ”
Frightened at the accent, as a traveler by the mutterings of a coming storm, Rousseau took Gilbert in his arms and tried to carry him away.
“Two willing friends to help Citizen Rousseau,” shouted Marat; “two men of the lower order.”
Rousseau had plenty to choose among; he took two lusty fellows who carried the youth in their arms.
“Take my lantern,” said the author to Taverney as he passed him: “I need it no longer.”
Philip thanked him and went on with his search.
“Poor young gentleman,” sighed Rousseau, as he saw him disappear in the thronged streets.
He shuddered, for still rang over the bloody field he surgeon’s shrill voice shouting:
“Bring in the poor—none but the poor! Woe to the rich, the noble and the high-born!”