"Maligner!"
"Keep your coolness, Madame; the man has long deceived you. The story that he is a plebeian is true. I can prove it."
"I asked you nothing of that sort; take me—only take me to him. Keep your promise."
"Very well, citizeness, there is but one condition. He is in the Conciergerie—in going to him you must, like him, be committed to be condemned."
"Gladly! gladly! Take me to him—take me to him—for the love of heaven."
"I love not heaven very much, citizeness, but, curse you, you seem fool enough to be granted what you ask. Look out of this door."
Obeying, she saw that a crowd of Sans-culottes had filled the shop.
Carmagnoled and sabred, they lounged in slothful consultation and obscured the air with bad tobacco-smoke. On the Admiral opening the door, they rose in a disorderly way and made him a sort of salute.
"Arrest her," he ordered, beckoning the two foremost and waving his skinny hand back to Cyrène. They came forward and grasped her arms.
"To the Conciergerie!" he said, "and each of you answers for her with your head."