"And mine," returned Dangeau.
"No, no,—I tell you there is hope. It is only a matter of hours."
"Just so."
Defarge interposed.
"Ciel, Citizens, are we to stand here all day? Citizen Goyot, your patient is dying, and you had better see to him. This citizen and I have an engagement,—yes, and a pressing one."
An hour later Dangeau passed in to take his trial. His predecessor's case had taken a scant five minutes, so simple a matter had the death penalty become.
Fouquier Tinville seated himself, his sharp features more like the fox's mask than ever, only now it was the fox who hears the hounds so close upon his heels that he dares not look behind to see how close they are. Fear does not improve the temper, and he nodded maliciously at his former colleague.
"Name," he rapped out, voice and eye alike vicious.
With smooth indifference Dangeau repeated his names, and added with a touch of amusement:
"You know me and my names well enough, or did once, my good Tinville."