voice, that he responded to it with alacrity. The voice, of a
smooth, oily timbre, as if the owner kept it well greased for
purposes of amiable speech, was like an echo of the past, when
jolly, irresponsible Baron de Batz, erst-while officer of the
Guard in the service of the late King, and since then known to be
the most inveterate conspirator for the restoration of the
monarchy, used to amuse Marguerite by his vapid, senseless plans
for the overthrow of the newly-risen power of the people.

Armand was quite glad to meet him, and when de Batz suggested that
a good talk over old times would be vastly agreeable, the younger
man gladly acceded, The two men, though certainly not mistrustful
of one another, did not seem to care to reveal to each other the
place where they lodged. De Batz at once proposed the avant-scene
box of one of the theatres as being the safest place where old
friends could talk without fear of spying eyes or ears.

"There is no place so safe or so private nowadays, believe me, my
young friend," he said "I have tried every sort of nook and
cranny in this accursed town, now riddled with spies, and I have
come to the conclusion that a small avant-scene box is the most
perfect den of privacy there is in the entire city. The voices of
the actors on the stage and the hum among the audience in the
house will effectually drown all individual conversation to every
ear save the one for whom it is intended."

It is not difficult to persuade a young man who feels lonely and
somewhat forlorn in a large city to while away an evening in the
companionship of a cheerful talker, and de Batz was essentially
good company. His vapourings had always been amusing, but Armand