"I thank you," replied Clyffurde; "I prefer to walk."
"It is eight kilometres and a pitch-dark night."
"I know my way, I thank you."
"Just as you like."
He paused a moment, and began humming the "Marseillaise." Clyffurde started walking down the monumental steps.
"Well, I'll say 'good-night,' de Marmont," he said coldly. "And 'good-bye,' too."
"You are not going away?" queried the other.
"As soon as I can get the means of going."
"Troops will be on the move all over the country soon. Foreigners will be interned. You will have some difficulty in getting away."
"I know that. That's why I want to make arrangements as early as possible."