"Citoyenne, there's the point: what constitutes a patriot? Do you know the law of suspects?" He tilted back his head and closed his eyes, not so tightly though as to miss the expression of her face. "These are declared suspects: "All aristocrats. "All priests. "All Moderates. "All those who, although they have done nothing against the Nation, have done nothing for it." He examined the prisoner carefully as he continued, emphasizing each word: "All those who correspond with the enemies of the country. "All who habitually entertain strangers. "All those who in the past have been associated with the aristocrats, whether as servant, mistress, or friend." "She does not seem to fear the word aristocrat," Dossonville added to himself. Then aloud: "Citoyenne Baudrier, you are accused of favoring the aristocrats." A look of amazement overspread the woman's features, which was so complete an answer to the charge that he added quickly: "Citoyenne, you are said to have been very intimate in the past with the ci-devant nobles." The blank look of astonishment gave place to one of indignation. "I? I, the Citoyenne Baudrier? Come, that's a joke!" "Citoyenne Baudrier, listen to me," Dossonville said, checking the explosion, "you are accused of having a daughter whose parentage you will not reveal, because the father is a ci-devant aristocrat and an enemy of his country." At this point-blank accusation, to his surprise, she rose and said scornfully, with her hands on her hips: "Ah, I see this is a trick of Louison's." For answer he displayed the shield of an agent de sûreté. La Mère Baudrier, overwhelmed, fell back, covering her face with her hands, while a single word escaped her: "Never!" "Citoyenne," Dossonville cried sternly, "I warn you that only by proving the parentage of your daughter can you clear yourself. If you refuse, you must answer before the Tribunal to the accusation." The woman shook her head without looking up. "Le Corbeau! Sans-Chagrin!" he called. At the noise of their entrance into the hall she sprang up, crying: "Wait! Wait!" Giving them an order to halt, Dossonville returned, saying roughly: "Well, have you decided to speak?" For a moment the woman remained swaying, babbling to herself; then suddenly she sank back, crying: "No, no!" "Undoubtedly it is an aristocrat, and some one formidable," Dossonville thought, seeing the pallor of her face. Then, raising his voice, he called his men. At their entrance a trembling seized the body of the woman, but at the sight of the mocking face of Sans-Chagrin she recoiled as before a vision, and a scream escaped her. "The Curé Sans-Souci! The Curé Sans-Souci!" "Who calls me by that name?" Sans-Chagrin cried, his face assuming a look of amazement. "Tiens! but I know that woman!" Suddenly he struck his head. "Of course!" he cried. "Pardi! what is there so terrible about me? I was always a good friend to you, La Glorieuse."