"'DEATH TO ROYAL RATS!'"
"What the deuce has come to thee?"
"Oh, nothing. I have had one of the fits you know of; I am always better after them. Diable! no marquis could scare me to-day. I saw him last week, I did. I followed him. It is he who would have been scared. I—I missed him in a crowd. In a minute I should have had him, like that," and he turned a glass upside down so as to capture a fly which was foraging on the table—"like that," he repeated triumphantly.
François watched him, and saw a flushed face, tremulous hands, staring eyes.
"He is afraid; he can't get out"; and the man laughed low, pointing to his prisoner.
"And thou wouldst have denounced him?" said Francis.
"Why not? He is one of them. He is hell; he is the devil! I saw no officers to help me."
"Thou art cracked; thou wilt denounce me next."
Pierre looked at François with unusual steadiness of gaze, hesitated, and replied: