The ruffian scowled, spat viciously, and swore.
"Then, then—a thousand devils! What did the Citizen mean with his 'and then'? He supposed that they should go home until there was another tyrant to kill."
"And then—shall I tell you what then?—will you hear me, Dangeau? Some of you know me," and his eye lit on a wizened creature who danced horribly about the headless corpse.
"Antoine, have you forgotten the February of two years ago?"
The ghastly object ceased its strange rhythmic movements, stared a moment, and broke into voluble speech.
"'T is a patriot, this Dangeau, I say it—I whom he saved from prison. Listen to him. He has good, strong words. Tell us then, Citizen, tell us what we're to do," and he capered nearer, catching at Dangeau's chair with fingers horribly smeared.
Silence fell, and, after a very slight pause, Dangeau leaned forward and began to speak in a low, confidential tone.
"All here are patriots, are they not? Not a traitor amongst you, citizens all, proved and true. You have struck down the enemies of France, and now you ask what next?" His voice rose suddenly and thrilled over the vast concourse.
"Citizens of Paris, the whole world looks to you—the nations of Europe stand waiting. They look to France because it is the cradle of the new religion,—the religion of humanity. France, revolted from under the hand of her tyrants, rises to give the law to all future generations. With us is the rising sun, whose beams shed liberty, justice, equality; and on this splendid dawn all eyes are fixed."
"They shall see us crush the tyrants!" bellowed the crowd.