I think, sir, that you had been better advised to have left the mob to its work last night, if you but restrained it for this purpose." "Is that your last word ?" asked La Boulaye, still calmly weathering that storm of insults.
"My very last, sir." "There are more ways than one of taking satisfaction for that affront, Citizen Bellecour," rejoined La Boulaye, "and if the course which I now pursue should prove more distasteful to you than that which I last suggested, the blame of it must rest with you." He turned to the bluecoat at the door.

"Citizen-soldier, my whip." There was a sudden movement among the aristocrats--a horrified recoiling--and even Bellecour was shaken out of his splendid arrogance.
"Insolent cur!" exclaimed Ombreval with withering scorn; "to what lengths is presumption driving you ?" "To the length of a horsewhip," answered La Boulaye pleasantly.
He received the whip from the hands of the soldier and he now advanced towards Bellecour, unwinding the lash as he came.

Ombreval barred his way with an oath.
"By Heaven: you shall not!" he cried.
"Shall not ?" echoed La Boulaye, his lips curling.

"You had best stand aside--you that are steeped in musk and fierceness." And before the stern and threatening contempt of La Boulaye's glance the young nobleman fell back.

But his place was taken by the Vicomte de Bellecour, who advanced to confront Caron.
"Monsieur la Boulaye," he announced, "I am ready and willing to meet you." And considering the grim alternative with which the Republicans had threatened him, the old Marquis had not the courage to interfere again.
"Ah!" It was an exclamation of satisfaction from the Commissioner.