Luckily for us, the conversation soon took another turn, and in half an hour we forgot all about the surgeon, who was sound asleep in his chair. The rain fell in torrents when we rose from table.
"The attorney is no fool," said I to Beaumarchais.
"He is heavy and cold," he replied; "but you see there are still steady, good sort of people in the provinces, who are quite in earnest about political theories, and the history of France. It is a leaven that will work yet."
"Is your carriage here?" asked Madame de St James.
"No"—I replied coldly. "You wished me, perhaps, to take M. de Calonne home?"
She left me, slightly offended at the insinuation, and turned to the attorney.
"M. de Robespierre," she said, "will you have the kindness to set M. Marat down at his hotel? He is not able to take care of himself."