"Hé, you are alone to-night?"
"Until twelve."
"You are lucky." He shifted his musket and laughed. "Mine leaves me alone to-night. We had a bit of a quarrel. I had to break a bottle over her head. And now, the devil take it! I have to stand guard alone." He added angrily: "That's the way with women."
"One moment, citoyen. You saw the party pass just now?"
"Aye. Did you not recognize him?"
"Who?"
"Some one who'll be busy to-night,—the Citoyen Marat." He raised his voice cheerily and sang:
"Ah, ça ira, ça ira, ça ira;
Les aristocrates à la lanterne!
Ah, ça ira, ça ira, ça ira;
Les aristocrates on les pendra.
"By to-morrow night there'll be no need of sentries!" he broke off. "It's long, eh, when there's no one to keep you company? The devil take the woman!" He shouldered his musket. "Citoyen, Salut et Fraternité."