were on a table pushed against the wall near the window. The lodging of
a poor student, a descendant, and little altered, of generations of
students' lodgings known in this city of Paris since it had first been
recognized as the chief seat of learning in Europe.

The student himself sat at the table, a book opened before him. He was
leaning back in his chair, thoughtfully, his mind partly fixed on what
he had been reading, partly on other matters. He was not only a student,
but a man of affairs besides. For most men the affairs would have closed
the books permanently, they were sufficient, full enough of ambition and
prospect, to do so, but Raymond Latour was not as other men. Life was a
long business, not limited by the fiery upheaval which was shaking the
foundations of social order. There was the afterwards, when the
excitement would be burned out, when the loud orators and mad
enthusiasts should find no occupation because none wished to hear them
talk. The sudden tide sweeping them into prominence for a moment would
assuredly destroy many and leave others stranded and useless, but for a
few there was the realization of ambition. Those few must have power to
grapple with their surroundings, brains to hold fast to the high
position upon which the tide wave must fling them. Of these Raymond
Latour would be. The determination was expressed in every feature, in
the steel gray eyes, in the firm set mouth, in the square and powerful
build of the man. Nature had given him inches above his fellows, muscles
which made them courteous to him; and study had given him the power to
use men. His ability was recognized and appreciated, his companions had
thrust him into prominence, at the first somewhat against his will, but
carried on the crest of the wave of popularity one easily becomes
ambitious. He was of the Jacobins Club, almost as constant an attendant
there as Robespierre himself, holding opinions that were not to be
shaken. He was not of those who had thought the Jacobins slow and had