cellency, Their Honors of the supreme court in gowns--scarlet gowns."
His discreet silence excited them. "Who are you for? Speak out!"

"I am a stranger here, with as yet no opinions."

"A neutral, by Jove!" shouted one.

At last the young man lost patience and said: "I am not, gentlemen, a
Jacobin. I am of that noblesse which of their own will gave up their
titles. I am--or was--the Vicomte de Courval."

There was an uproar. "We are citizens, we would have you to know. Damn
your titles! We are citizens, not gentlemen."

"That is my opinion," said De Courval, rising. Men hooted at him and
shook fists in his face. "Take care!" he cried, backing away from the
table. In the midst of it came the landlord. "He is a royalist," they
cried; "he must go or we go."

The landlord hurried him out of the room. "Monsieur," he said--"Citizen,
these are fools, but I have my living to think of. You must go. I am
sorry, very sorry."

"I cannot go now," said De Courval. "I shall do so to-morrow at my
leisure." It was so agreed. He talked quietly a while with his mother,
saying nothing of this new trouble, and then, still hot with anger, he
went to his room, astonished at his reception, and anxious that his
mother should find a more peaceful home.

He slept the sleep of the healthy young, rose at early dawn, and was
able to get milk and bread and thus to escape breakfast with the
citizen-boarders, not yet arisen. Before he went out, he glanced at the
book of guests. He had written Vicomte de Courval, with his mother's
name beneath it, La Vicomtesse de Courval, without a thought on so
casual a matter, and now, flushing, he read "Citizen" above his title
with an erasure of de and Vicomte. Over his mother's title was written
the last affectation of the Jacobins, "Citizeness" Courval. It was so
absurd that, the moment's anger passing into mirth, he went out into the
air, laughing and exclaiming: "_Mais qu'ils sont betes! Quelle
enfantillage!_ What childishness!" The servant, a man of middle age, who
was sweeping the steps, said in French, "What a fine day, monsieur."

"_Bon jour, Citizen_," returned De Courval, laughing. The man laughed
also, and said, "_Canailles, Monsieur_," with a significant gesture of
contempt. "_Bon jour, Monsieur le Vicomte_," and then, hearing steps
within, resumed his task with: "But one must live. My stomach has the
opinions of my appetite." For a moment he watched the serious face and
well-knit figure of t