"And if she renders you useful assistance, I think I can offer her what
should prove a tempting prize. Women are so vain!" he added,
contemplating with rapt attention the enamel-like polish on his finger-
nails. "There is a vacancy in the Maison Moliere. Or--what might
prove more attractive still--in connection with the proposed National
fete, and the new religion for the people, we have not yet chosen a
Goddess of Reason. That should appeal to any feminine mind. The
impersonation of a goddess, with processions, pageants, and the rest.
... Great importance and prominence given to one personality. ...
What say you, Citizen? If you really have need of a woman for the
furtherance of your plans, you have that at your disposal which may
enhance her zeal."

"I thank you, Citizen," rejoined Chauvelin calmly. "I always
entertained a hope that some day the Revolutionary Government
would call again on my services. I admit that I failed last year. The
Englishman is resourceful. He has wits and he is very rich. He would
not have succeeded, I think, but for his money --and corruption and
bribery are rife in Paris and on our coasts. He slipped through my
fingers at the very moment when I thought that I held him most
securely. I do admit all that, but I am prepared to redeem my failure
of last year, and ... there is nothing more to discuss.--I am ready to
start."

He looked round for his cloak and hat, and quietly readjusted the set
of his neck-tie. But Robespierre detained him a while longer: that
born mountebank, born torturer of the souls of men, had not gloated
sufficiently yet on the agony of mind of this fellow-man.

Chauvelin had always been trusted and respected. His services in