Edgar Ferrier was the sole member of his political party among the group which he thus addressed; but such was the terror which the Communists already began to inspire among the bourgeoisie that no one volunteered a reply.
Savarin linked his arm in De Breze's, and prudently drew him off.
"I suspect," said the former, "that we shall soon have worse calamities to endure than the Prussian obus and the black loaf. The Communists will have their day."
"I shall be in my grave before then," said De Breze, in hollow accents. "It is twenty-four hours since I spent my last fifty sous on the purchase of a rat, and I burnt the legs of my bedstead for the fuel by which that quadruped was roasted."
"Entre nous, my poor friend, I am much in the same condition," said Savarin, with a ghastly attempt at his old pleasant laugh. "See how I am shrunken! My wife would be unfaithful to the Savarin of her dreams if she accepted a kiss from the slender gallant you behold in me. But I thought you were in the National Guard, and therefore had not to vanish into air."
"I was a National Guard, but I could not stand the hardships, and being above the age, I obtained my exemption. As to pay, I was then too proud to claim my wage of 1 franc 25 centimes. I should not be too proud now. Ah, blessed be Heaven! here comes Lemercier; he owes me a dinner—he shall pay it."
"Bon jour, my dear Frederic! How handsome you look in your kepi! Your uniform is brilliantly fresh from the soil of powder. What a contrast to the tatterdemalions of the Line!"
"I fear," said Lemercier, ruefully, "that my costume will not look so well a day or two hence. I have just had news that will no doubt seem very glorious—in the news papers. But then newspapers are not subjected to cannonballs."
"What do you mean?" answered De Breze.
"I met, as I emerged from my apartment a few minutes ago, that fire- eater, Victor de Mauleon, who always contrives to know what passes at headquarters. He told me that preparations are being made for a great sortie. Most probably the announcement will appear in a proclamation tomorrow, and our troops march forth to-morrow night. The National Guard (fools and asses who have been yelling out for decisive action) are to have their wish, and to be placed in the van of battle,—amongst the foremost, the battalion in which I am enrolled. Should this be our last meeting on earth, say that Frederic Lemercier has finished his part in life with eclat."