“Not I,” answered Saint A.
“Nor I,” said La G—, ci-devant billiard-sharper of Leicester Square, London.
“I’m not afraid,” said the Duke. “But do you think it is right?”
His grace was the only man of the five who had a spark of humanity in his heart. A poor weak man, he was only allied with the others in the intimacy of a fast friendship.
“Right?” echoed La G—. “What’s wrong in it? Would it be right to let this canaille of demagogues rule Paris—France? That’s what it’ll come to if we don’t act. Now, or never, say I!”
“And I!”
“And all of us?”
“We must do more than say,” said De M—, glancing toward the tamer of the Boulogne eagle, who still stood against the fire-place, looking scared and irresolute. “We must swear it!”
“Come, Louis!” he continued, familiarly addressing himself to the Prince-President. “We’re all in the same boat here. It’s a case of life or death, and we must stand true to one another. I propose that we swear it!”
“I have no objection,” said the nephew of Napoleon, led on by a man whom his great uncle would have commanded. “I’ll make any oath you like.”