XX
Of how François gave Amar advice, and of how the marquis bought his own head.
It was now about May 26, when, at evening, a commissioner in a cocked hat, much plumed and scarfed, came into the dining-hall. Toto was between his master's knees, and was being fed. François heard a gray-haired old lady exclaim to a neighbor: "Mon Dieu! chérie, look! 'T is the Terror in person."
The actor Champville cried out gaily: "I must practise that face. 'T is a fortune for the villain of a play. If ever I get out, it will be inestimable." Alas! he was in the next day's list,—the corvée, they called it,—and came no more to table. François looked up, caught a glimpse of that relentless visage, and dropped his head again over the slender relics of a not bountiful meal. It was Jean Pierre Amar!
The marquis looked up from his plate, but made no effort to conceal himself. Amar walked around the table. Now and then his mouth wandered to left. It was comical, and yet horribly grotesque. He seemed to notice no one, and went out to make his inspection. Presently a turnkey came and touched François's shoulder.
"The citizen commissioner would see thee."
"I am ruined—done for!" murmured the thief; and, followed by Toto, he went after the turnkey. In the room used as a registering-office, Amar, le farouche, sat handling a paper.
"Ah!" he said. "Citizen turnkey, leave the suspect with me, and close the door." The commissioner laid a pair of pistols on the table, and looked up at François.
"Well, citizen, we are met again. I am free to say that I had careful search made for thee, and now good fortune has brought hither not thee alone, but that infernal ci-devant who pinned me like a butterfly." As he spoke there was something fascinating in the concentration of emotion on the active side of this unnatural face. François felt the need to be careful.
"Why the devil don't you speak?"