'No, _parbleu!_ muttered a drowsy voice. 'I closed my eyes when the Bordeaux was finished, and began to reflect on Lafayette's breakfast. Isn't this the day?'
'I must be at St. Frotin by seven o'clock,' said one.
'And I have to see Marigni at the mill of Montmorency, by the same hour.'
'Yes; they are both Vendéans, and may kill each other without damage to the State.'
'He was going to say Republic!' cried another, laughing.
'Who talks of a Republic?' interposed a rough voice angrily.
'Be calm, messieurs--all religions are to be respected,'
'True, Mirabeau; but this is to proclaim none.'
'Who knows? They never excavate near Rome but they discover some long-forgotten deity! Can you or I venture to say what new faith may not arise out of these ashes?'
'Let it but repudiate the law of debt and discountenance marriage,' said another, 'and I am its first convert.'
'Good-bye, Mirabeau, adieu,' cried several together, and they were now heard descending the stairs. Meanwhile, Mirabeau drew back the curtain and looked out upon the street.
'Whom have we got here?' said the first who issued forth from the door, and saw Gerald standing before him.
'What is it? who does he want?' cried Mirabeau, as he saw them in conversation.
'One of your peasants, Mirabeau, with, doubtless, a Provencal cheese and some olives for you.'
'Or a letter of loving tidings from that dear uncle,' cried another; 'the only one who ever knew the real goodness of your nature.'
'Let him come up,' said Mirabeau, as he closed the window.
When Gerald reached the top of the stair, he saw in front of him a large, powerfully-built man, who, standing with his back to the light, had his features in deep shadow.
'You are the Count de Mirabeau?' began Gerald.
'And you--who are you?' responded he quickly.
'That you shall know, when I am certain of whom I am addressing/
'Come in,' said the Count, and walked before him into the room. He turned about just as the door closed, and Gerald, fixing his eyes upon him, cried out, 'Good heavens! is it possible? Signor Gabriel!'
'Now for your own name, my friend,' said Mirabeau calmly.
'Don't you know me, then? don't you remember the boy you saved years ago from death in the Roman Maremma--Fitzgerald?'