Dossonville, perceiving his joy, thought to himself, "Yes, heroism before death is all very well, but how the hope of life transforms a man!" Aloud he continued, "Take the passport and hurry." Then Goursac, retreating a step, said but one word: "No!" But in the word, with the flash of his eye, with the toss of his head, with the resolution of his lips, there was the eloquence of an oration. This time it was Dossonville who was overcome with astonishment. "You are mad!" he exclaimed, seizing him by the lapel. "If you return, it is to the guillotine." "So be it!" "Reflect." "I have. Had I wished to save myself, I should have done so long ago." "Then you seek death?" "I will not fly from the scum," Goursac said proudly. "I am a Girondin and a Frenchman. When I can no longer live as a Girondin, I am ready to die as a Frenchman. Liberty? What do you offer me? Exile and a daily cringing from discovery, a miserable, hunted existence in the mud and rain? No!" He took a step forward and grasped his hand. "For what you have risked for me accept my benediction; may it bring good luck." "At least, take the passport," said Dossonville, desperately, holding it out to him, "so that if you change your mind--" "So that I may not change my mind--there." With a rapid motion Goursac tore the passport in two, embraced Dossonville, and went out. Before the Prêtre Pendu, Cramoisin, Boudgoust, and Jambony, more dead than alive, hung their heads in terror while Javogues, like a wounded bull, strode backward and forward before them, filling the air with his imprecations. "Come, you lie, one and all. You lie, Cramoisin; you lie, Boudgoust; you lie, Jambony. He has bought you with gold! You have sold yourselves!" "I swear they escaped us through some passage!" Boudgoust cried. "We searched an hour," Cramoisin put in. "Shut up!" Javogues seized him furiously by the shoulders, and approaching his gleaming eyes as though to force the truth from his face, he shouted: "You lie! You lie! I see you lie!" Abandoning him, he seized Jambony, shaking him like a whip; but as he opened his mouth to roar forth fresh denunciations, he stopped short and dropped the cub in amazement. At the same moment a murmur ran throughout the crowd, which, parting, disclosed the approaching figure of Goursac. The Girondin perceived his enemies by the same motion of the crowd; but without faltering, he continued nodding to the acquaintances who now shrank before him. He had passed the cabaret and was almost at the entrance of No. 38 before Javogues could recover. Then, with a roar, he cried: "Stop!" Goursac wheeled, returned, and halted. "What do you wish of me?" Javogues, brought thus to the long-desired moment, folded his arms and said brutally: "You do not rejoice, citoyen, at the death of traitors." "I always rejoice at the death of traitors." "You rejoice to-day, then?" "I grieve." He pronounced the words sadly. "You are against the Revolution. Say it."