Dumas and Fouquier exchanged looks of disgust.  Dumas shrugged his shoulders, and replied,—­

“It is to guard thee against eau de vie, Citizen General Henriot, that I have requested thee to meet me here.  Listen if thou canst!”

“Oh, talk away! thy metier is to talk, mine to fight and to drink.”

“To-morrow, I tell thee then, the populace will be abroad; all factions will be astir.  It is probable enough that they will even seek to arrest our tumbrils on their way to the guillotine.  Have thy men armed and ready; keep the streets clear; cut down without mercy whomsoever may obstruct the ways.”

“I understand,” said Henriot, striking his sword so loudly that Dumas half-started at the clank,—­“Black Henriot is no ‘Indulgent.’”

“Look to it, then, citizen,—­look to it!  And hark thee,” he added, with a grave and sombre brow, “if thou wouldst keep thine own head on thy shoulders, beware of the eau de vie.”

“My own head!—­sacre mille tonnerres!  Dost thou threaten the general of the Parisian army?”

Dumas, like Robespierre, a precise atrabilious, and arrogant man, was about to retort, when the craftier Tinville laid his hand on his arm, and, turning to the general, said, “My dear Henriot, thy dauntless republicanism, which is too ready to give offence, must learn to take a reprimand from the representative of Republican Law.  Seriously, mon cher, thou must be sober for the next three or four days; after the crisis is over, thou and I will drink a bottle together.  Come, Dumas relax thine austerity, and shake hands with our friend.  No quarrels amongst ourselves!”

Dumas hesitated, and extended his hand, which the ruffian clasped; and, maudlin tears succeeding his ferocity, he half-sobbed, half-hiccoughed forth his protestations of civism and his promises of sobriety.

“Well, we depend on thee, mon general,” said Dumas; “and now, since we shall all have need of vigour for to-morrow, go home and sleep soundly.”

“Yes, I forgive thee, Dumas,—­I forgive thee.  I am not vindictive,—­I! but still, if a man threatens me; if a man insults me—­” and, with the quick changes of intoxication, again his eyes gleamed fire through their foul tears.  With some difficulty Fouquier succeeded at last in soothing the brute, and leading him from the chamber.  But still, as some wild beast disappointed of a prey, he growled and snarled as his heavy tread descended the stairs.  A tall trooper, mounted, was leading Henriot’s horse to and fro the streets; and as the general waited at the porch till his attendant turned, a stranger stationed by the wall accosted him: 

“General Henriot, I have desired to speak with thee.  Next to Robespierre, thou art, or shouldst be, the most powerful man in France.”

“Hem!—­yes, I ought to be.  What then?—­every man has not his deserts!”

“Hist!” said the stranger; “thy pay is scarcely suitable to thy rank and thy wants.”