"Good." He reflected a moment. "Just the place!"
He started on, and then suddenly stopped, as by habit of caution. "No, not to-night. Where do you live?"
"Eugène Barabant, Rue Maugout, No. 38." He drew out two letters. "I have a word of introduction to Roland."
"And the other?"
"To Marat."
"Ah, Marat," Dossonville said, with a sudden cooling. "A strong man that, and very patriotic."
"I do not intend to present it," Barabant said, seeing the change. He hesitated a moment, as though to reveal a confidence, while a smile struggled to his lips. But in the end, resisting the desire, he said evasively, "It is a measure of protection, in case of danger."
Dossonville scrutinized him sharply, and then, as though reassured by the frank visage, he said: "Very well; I'll be around to-morrow night. Try your hand at a polemic or two. Have you a knack of poetry? Satires are more powerful than arguments. A laugh can trip up a colossus."
"I have done a little verse."
"Who hasn't?" He paused. "You will be discreet? Au revoir!"