"It is a place of fools."
"Ha, ha! Does that mean also of aristos?"
"There is one; that is sufficient."
"But the old aristo died. He who has now come is a good citizen."
Bertrand's face was livid with rage.
"A good citizen! Mille diables! A good citizen. What! the new Marquis who came last week from England? Nom d'un chien, Citoyen Marcel, he is the worst of the lot—a cursed aristo to his finger-tips."
It was Trouet's turn to stare.
"Bah! comrade, you do not know him. I tell you he is my friend. It is I who brought him from England on purpose to teach those fools at Varenac to cry 'Vive la Revolution.'"
"I do not care what you say. He is a cursed aristo; I have seen him."
Bertrand rubbed his back, scowling darkly over a sore memory.