long before the bulk of the audience had begun to assemble in the
house. The inside of the box was in complete darkness, and the
narrow opening which allowed but a sorry view of one side of the
stage helped to conceal rather than display the occupants.

The younger one of these two men appeared to be something of a
stranger in Paris, for as the public men and the well-known
members of the Government began to arrive he often turned to his
companion for information regarding these notorious personalities.

"Tell me, de Batz," he said, calling the other's attention to a
group of men who had just entered the house, "that creature there
in the green coat--with his hand up to his face now--who is he?"

"Where? Which do you mean?"

"There! He looks this way now, and he has a playbill in his hand.
The man with the protruding chin and the convex forehead, a face
like a marmoset, and eyes like a jackal. What?"

The other leaned over the edge of the box, and his small, restless
eyes wandered over the now closely-packed auditorium.

"Oh!" he said as soon as he recognised the face which his friend
had pointed out to him, "that is citizen Foucquier-Tinville."

"The Public Prosecutor?"

"Himself. And Heron is the man next to him."