"Nor I," said Pierre. "But let him take care; I am not a man to be played with."
François said he should think not, but that if he meditated an attack on that miserable ci-devant yonder, it were better to wait until Grégoire had come and gone.
This caution seemed to awaken suspicion. Pierre turned, and caught François's arm. "Thou art a spy—a spy of the Convention!"
"Thou must be more fond of a joke than was once thy way. Nonsense! I could go back and warn the marquis. That would serve the republic, and well, too; for, by Heaven! if thou art of a mind to burn houses, Robespierre will shorten thee by a head in no time."
"Who talks of burning houses? Am I a fool? I—Despard?"
"No, indeed. Thou—" François needed the man's help, and felt that he was risking his own safety. He must at least seem to trust him. "Dost thou mean to arrest Ste. Luce?"
"I do."
"But when?"
"Oh, in a day or two; no hurry."
François knew that he was hearing a lie. "Good," he said. "But I advise thee against violence."