"Home. Give me your arm. You were too strong; I am tired."
"Nicole," Dossonville began, in the hope of diverting her mood, "let us reason a little. That is not the Revolution: that is the scum. Judge it not by that."
"You say that," she answered wearily—"you?"
"Aye, the Revolution has proved too immense, and the leaders too weak. It has rolled over them; but the world is its path, and time will right it."
But Nicole, despite all his artifices, refused to say another word until in the Rue Maugout he cried sternly:
"Nicole, what do you intend to do?"
"Is that so difficult to guess?"
"Nicole! You are not going to take your life!"
"My life?" she answered, shaking her head. "That is all that is left to me to use."
"Javogues's?"