“Ah! you came too late to hear that,” said the Pole, in a whisper to Massingbred; “but it seems La Henderson became quite a Charlotte Corday this evening, and talked more violent Republicanism than has been heard in a salon since the days of old Égalité.”
“All lights must be extinguished, gentlemen,” said the waiter, entering hastily. “The street is occupied by troops, and you must pass out by the Rue de Grenelle.”
“Are the mobs not dispersing, then?” asked the Russian.
“No, your Highness. They have beaten back the troops from the Quai Voltaire, and are already advancing on the Louvre.”
“What absurdity!” exclaimed the Pole. “If the troops permit this, there is treason amongst them.”
“I can answer for it there is terror, at least,” said Massingbred. “All the high daring and spirit is with what you would call the Sans-culottes.”
“That a man should talk this way because he has lost a cab-horse!” cried the Pole, insolently.
“There are men who can bear the loss of a country with more equanimity,—I know that,” whispered Massingbred in his ear, with all the calm sternness of an insult.
“You mean this for me?” said the Pole, in a low voice.
“Of course I do,” was the answer.