e"--a light, misty rain was falling,
and the night was dark and starless; the "_Scelerat_" was brilliant with
lamps and candles, and crowds were passing in and out, but it was no
longer a home for me--so I passed on, and continued my way toward the
Boulevard.

CHAPTER IV.

"THE NIGHT OF THE NINTH THERMIDOR."

I had agreed with the Pere Michel to rendezvous at the garden of the
little chapel of St. Blois, and thitherward I now turned my steps.

The success which followed this my first enterprise in life had already
worked a wondrous change in all my feelings. Instead of looking up to
the poor Cure for advice and guidance, I felt as though our parts were
exchanged, and that it was _I_ who was now the protector of the other.
The oft-repeated sneers at "les bons Pretres," who were good for
nothing, must have had a share in this new estimate of my friend; but a
certain self-reliance just then springing up in my heart, effectually
completed the change.

The period was essentially one of action and not of reflection. Events
seemed to fashion themselves at the will of him who had daring and
courage to confront them, and they alone appeared weak and poor-spirited
who would not stem the tide of fortune. Sentiments like these were not,
as may be supposed, best calculated to elevate the worthy Pere in my
esteem, and I already began to feel how unsuited was such companionship
for me, whose secret promptings whispered ever, "go forward."

The very vagueness of my hopes served but to extend the horizon of
futurity before me, and I fancied a thousand situations of distinction
that might yet be mine. Fame--or its poor counterfeit, notoriety--seemed
the most enviable of all possessions. It mattered little by what merits
it were won, for, in that fickle mood of popular opinion, great vices
were as highly prized as transcendent abilities, and one might be as
illustrious by crime as by genius. Such were not the teachings of the
Pere; but they were the lessons that Paris dinned into my ears
unceasingly. Reputation, character, was of no avail, in a social
condition where all was change and vacillation. What was idolized one
day, was execrated the next. The hero of yesterday, was the object of
popular vengeance to-day. The success of the passing hour was every
thing.

The streets were crowded as I passed along; although a drizzling rain
was falling, groups and knots of people were gathered together at every
corner, and, by their eag