that mutineer."

"Armand Monnier, you are not quite sober to-night, or I would argue with
you that question. But you no doubt are brave: how and why do you take
the part of a runaway?"

"How and why? He was my brother, and you own you murdered him: my
brother--the sagest head in Paris. If I had listened to him, I should
not be,--bah!--no matter now what I am."

"I could not know he was your brother; but if he had been mine I would
have done the same."

Here Victor's lip quivered, for Monnier griped him by the arm, and looked
him in the face with wild stony eyes. "I recollect that voice! Yet--
yet--you say you are a noble, a Vicomte--Victor de Mauleon, and you shot
my brother!"

Here he passed his left hand rapidly over his forehead. The fumes of
wine still clouded his mind, but rays of intelligence broke through the
cloud. Suddenly he said in a loud, and calm, and natural voice:

"Mons. le Vicomte, you accost me as Armand Monnier--pray how do you know
my name?"

"How should I not know it? I have looked into the meetings of the 'Clubs
rouges.' I have heard you speak, and naturally asked your name. _Bon
soir_ M. Monnier! When you reflect in cooler moments, you will see that
if patriots excuse Brutus for first dishonouring and then executing his
own son, an officer charged to defend his country may be surely pardoned