ce when he is handed an order from the
Commune to proceed to the Hotel de Ville to sit in the General Council.
To the sound of the rolling drums and clanging church bells, he and his
colleagues record their verdict; then he hurries home to embrace his
mother and snatch up his scarf of office. The Place de Thionville is
deserted. The Section is afraid to declare either for or against the
Convention. Wayfarers creep along under the walls, slip down
side-streets, sneak indoors. The call of the tocsin and alarm-drums is
answered by the noise of barring shutters and bolting doors. The
_citoyen_ Dupont senior has secreted himself in his shop; Remacle the
porter is barricaded in his lodge. Little Josephine holds Mouton
tremblingly in her arms. The widow Gamelin bemoans the dearness of
victuals, cause of all the trouble. At the foot of the stairs Evariste
encounters Elodie; she is panting for breath and her black locks are
plastered on her hot cheek.

"I have been to look for you at the Tribunal; but you had just left.
Where are you going?"

"To the Hotel de Ville."

"Don't go there! It would be your ruin; Hanriot is arrested ... the
Sections will not stir. The _Section des Piques_, Robespierre's Section,
will do nothing, I know it for a fact; my father belongs to it. If you
go to the Hotel de Ville, you are throwing away your life for nothing."

"You wish me to be a coward?"

"No! the brave thing is to be faithful to the Convention and to obey the
Law."

"The law is dead when malefactors triumph."

"Evariste, hear me; hear your Elodie; hear your sister. Come and sit
beside her and let her soothe your angry spirit."

He looked at her; never had she seemed so desirable in his eyes; never
had her voice sounded so seductive, so persuasive in his ears.

"A couple of paces, only a couple of paces, dear Evariste!"--and she
drew him towards the raised platform on which stood the pedestal of the
overthrown statue. It was surrounded by benches occupied by strollers of
both sexes. A dealer in fancy articles was offering his laces, a seller
of cooling drinks, his portable cistern on his back, was tinkling his
bell; little girls were showing off their airs and graces. The parapet
was lined with anglers, standing, rod in hand, very still. The weather
was stormy, the sky overcast. Gamelin leant on the low wall and looked
down on the islet below, pointed like the prow of a ship, listening to
the wind whistling in the tree-tops, and