bitter, retribution in his mental attitude, that
La Boulaye released his arm, at a loss for further arguments wherewith
to curb him.

"Paydi!" Charlot continued, "I have a mind for a frolic. Does not
justice give me the right to claim that these aristocrats shall amuse
me?"

With an oath he turned abruptly, and pulled the casement open.

"Guyot!" he called, and a voice from below made answer to him.

"You will make my compliments to the citoyennes in the coach, Guyot, and
tell them that the Citizen-captain Tardivet requests the honour of their
company to supper."

Then he went to the door, and calling Dame Capoulade, he bade her set
two fresh covers; in which he was expeditiously obeyed. La Boulaye stood
by the fire, his pale face impassive now and almost indifferent. Charlot
returned to the window to learn from Guyot that the citoyennes thanked
the Citizen-captain, but that they were tired and sought to be excused,
asking nothing better than to be allowed to remain at peace in their
carriage.

"Sacred name of a name!" he croaked, a trifle thickly, for the wine he
had taken was mastering him more and more. "Are they defying us? Since
they will not accept an invitation, compel them to obey a command. Bring
them up at once, Guyot."

"At once, Captain," was the answer, and Guyot went about the business.

Charlot closed the window and approached the table.

"They are coquettish these scented dames," he mocked, as he poured
himself out some wine. "You are not drinking Caron."

"It is perhaps wise that one of us should remain sober," answered the
Deputy quietly, for in spite of a certain sympathy with the feelings by
which Charlot was actuated, he was in dead antipathy to this baiting of
women that seemed toward.

Charlot made no answer. He drained his goblet and set it down with a
bang. Then he flung himself into a chair, and stretching out his long,
booted legs he began to hum the refrain of the "Marseillaise." Thus a
few moments went by. Then there came a sound of steps upon the creaking
stairs, and the gruff voice of the soldier urging the ladies to ascend
more speedily.

At last the door opened and two women entered, followed by Guyot.
Charlot lurched to his feet.

"You have come, Mesdames," said he, forgetting the mode of address
prescribed by the Convention, and clumsily essaying to make a leg. "Be
welcome! Guyot, go to the devil."

For a moment or two after the soldier's departure the women remained