“Victor,” I cried, “something has happened!”
“Yes, but not much. Somebody tried to frighten me.”
“Are you wounded?”
“No, they did not wish to take my life.”
“I conjure you to tell me frankly what has happened.”
“Well, here are the facts: I had left M. Beauvais’ house, where I was politely received, and had gone two streets, when I observed three men walking swiftly after me on the Place. They seemed well dressed, which removed my suspicions. I turned into the little Rue St. Augustine. It is dimly lighted in the evening and almost always deserted.”
“How imprudent!”
“That is true. I did wrong. I had scarcely gone a hundred yards, before the three men overtook me.”
“‘Stop!’ exclaimed one of them. I stopped to ascertain what they wished. The same voice continued in these terms: ‘How much do those calotins give you to defend them?’
“‘I have only one word to say in reply to your insulting question—I defend my own principles, above all because I cherish them in the depths of my soul.’ So saying, I sought to keep on my way.