"Good-day, Marat," said Chabot; "we seldom see you at our sessions."
"My doctor has ordered baths," replied Marat.
"Ah, you had better beware of baths," continued Chabot. "Seneca died in a bath."
Marat smiled.
"There is no Nero here, Chabot."
"I should say there was, since you are here," said a gruff voice.
It was Danton, who was passing on his way towards his seat.
Marat did not turn round.
He thrust his head in between the faces of Montaut and Chabot.
"Listen, I have come on serious business; one of us three must propose the draft of a decree to the Convention to-day."