"You are superstitious. You will be telling me next that you had a premonition about your own neck."
"Hardly; but, my friend, yours is so long and the chances of politics are so many—"
"Don't trouble yourself," replied Goursac, laughing, and with a mock gesture he extended his fist. "As for my neck, Madame Guillotine, I defy you to take it." He turned to Barabant. "You, my friend, are so gallant that I won't answer for yours."
They passed into the Rue Royale, Goursac slightly in advance. Barabant, rubbing shoulders with the departing crowd, felt a pull on his arm and heard the voice of Nicole saying mischievously:
"Barabant, are you very angry with me?"
Too astonished to make answer, he remained dumbly gazing into the teasing countenance; but at that moment Goursac, perceiving them, called out indulgently:
"That's right, children; we don't live long enough for lovers to quarrel. I'll keep discreetly ahead."
Barabant persisting in his silence, Nicole continued pleadingly:
"Then you are still angry?"