"Ah! you have not changed!" cried Coursegol, pressing his friend's hand.
"No, I have not changed. As you knew me so will you find me. But, my good friend, we must be prudent. You did well to come to my house. You and your daughter must remain here. You are relatives of mine; that is understood. Later, we can make other arrangements; but this evening I shall take you to the political club to which I belong. I will introduce you as my brother-in-law, a brave patriot from the south."
"But what the devil shall I do at the club?" inquired Coursegol.
"What shall you do there? Why, you will howl with the wolves; that is the only way to save yourself from being eaten by them!"
But Coursegol demurred.
"M. Bridoul is right," urged Dolores, timidly.
"Niece, you are wise to take your uncle's part," remarked Bridoul; "but you must take care not to call me monsieur. That is more than enough to send you to prison as times are now."
"Is everything a crime then?" cried Coursegol.
"Everything," answered Bridoul, "and the greatest crime of all would be to remain at home while all good patriots are listening to the friends of the people in the political meetings. You will be closely watched, for we are surrounded by spies; and if any act of yours arouses the slightest suspicion we shall all go to sleep on the straw in the Conciergerie or the Abbaye, until we are sent to the block!"
Coursegol uttered a groan.