Then he crossed to the fire and stood with his back to La Boulaye for a spell.

When next he faced his companion all signs of emotion had cleared from his countenance.

It was again the callous, reckless face of Captain Charlot, rendered a trifle more reckless and a trifle more callous by the wine-flush on his cheeks and the wine-glitter in his eye.
"Caron" said he, with a half-smile, "shall we have these ladies in to supper ?" "God forbid!" ejaculated La Boulaye.
"Nay, but I will," the other insisted, and he moved across to the window.
As he passed him, La Boulaye laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
"Not that, Charlot," he begged impressively, his dark face very set.
"Plunder them, turn them destitute upon the world, if you will, but remember, at least, that they are women." Charlot laughed in his face.
"It is something to remember, is it not?
They remembered it of our women, these aristocrats!" There was so much ugly truth in the Captain's words, and such a suggestion of just, if bitter, retribution in his mental attitude, that La Boulaye released his arm, at a loss for further arguments wherewith to curb him.
"Paydi!" Charlot continued, "I have a mind for a frolic.

Does not justice give me the right to claim that these aristocrats shall amuse me ?" With an oath he turned abruptly, and pulled the casement open.
"Guyot!" he called, and a voice from below made answer to him.
"You will make my compliments to the citoyennes in the coach, Guyot, and tell them that the Citizen-captain Tardivet requests the honour of their company to supper." Then he went to the door, and calling Dame Capoulade, he bade her set two fresh covers; in which he was expeditiously obeyed.

La Boulaye stood by the fire, his pale face impassive now and almost indifferent.