"I shall be able to bring a more accurate account," replied d'Arlincourt with an impatient shrug.
"As you will," said St. Hilaire. "Blaise, give the Count d'Arlincourt his hat and sword. Are you quite sure you do not want some of my lackeys to accompany you?" he asked.
D'Arlincourt declined the offer and hastily left the room.
The two marquises were left in possession of the dining-room and the wine. They both continued to drink, each after his own fashion. With each successive glass, de Lacheville became louder in voice and more boastful, while as St. Hilaire sipped his wine, he became quieter and more indifferent.
Within ten minutes d'Arlincourt returned to them, his face betraying great excitement.
"A mob has attacked and captured the Bastille. The multitude is surging through the streets. They will pass before this very door."
"It is impossible that they could have taken the Bastille!" exclaimed de Lacheville, rising to his feet and steadying himself by holding to the back of his chair.
"There are thirty thousand of them," replied d'Arlincourt, "and through some treachery they have obtained arms. In order to save bloodshed Governor Delaunay surrendered the fortress on receiving the promise of the insurgents that the lives of all its defenders should be spared. They are now dragging him through the streets, crying out for his blood. The man was mad to trust the word of such a rabble."
"Let us go into the salon," remarked St. Hilaire quietly. "There we can reassure the ladies and also view this interesting spectacle."
The three gentlemen entered the room which fronted upon the street, d'Arlincourt with compressed lips and flashing eyes; de Lacheville, unsteady of gait and with wine-flushed face, murmuring maledictions against the beast multitude; and St. Hilaire, cool and calm as was his wont.