Her pose had relaxed, while a slight smile of disdain appeared as she watched the frantic crowd acclaim the head which a _bourreau_ held to them. On her face was neither horror nor anger, neither disgust nor passion. As calmly as though before her own mirror, she smoothed out her dress and replaced the cockade, torn by the contact of the crowd, with a fresh one from her basket, scenting first its perfume. She raised her eyes, and her glance met that of Barabant, overcome with disgust. She frowned, and turning her shoulder, was lost in the crowd which now flowed out in widening circles. "What is there about her!" Barabant exclaimed, turning to Goursac. "About whom?" "Louison," he said impatiently. "You did not see her? She made me shiver!" "She affects me like a snake," Goursac answered. "She is a creature of the night, in her element at such a time. They say she never misses an execution. Well, citoyen, what of the machine?" "Horrible!" "You are wrong," Goursac protested. "It does not take life: it suppresses it, and that by a process more charitable than natural death. That is the way a nation should avenge itself." He repeated several times in a transport of enthusiasm, "Magnificent!" "There, look at it now!" At Barabant's summons they paused at the gate, looking back at the dim circle of lights around the guillotine unseen but divined, while Barabant continued: "The first time did not count--it was only a thief. To-night is the true beginning of the guillotine--a sinister and ominous beginning." "Still, what a spectacle!" Goursac exclaimed. "What could be more dramatic?" "Too much so," Barabant retorted. "I admit I am impressionable, but to-night the blow seemed to fall from above our own heads." "You are superstitious. You will be telling me next that you had a premonition about your own neck." "Hardly; but, my friend, yours is so long and the chances of politics are so many--" "Don't trouble yourself," replied Goursac, laughing, and with a mock gesture he extended his fist. "As for my neck, Madame Guillotine, I defy you to take it." He turned to Barabant. "You, my friend, are so gallant that I won't answer for yours." They passed into the Rue Royale, Goursac slightly in advance. Barabant, rubbing shoulders with the departing crowd, felt a pull on his arm and heard the voice of Nicole saying mischievously: "Barabant, are you very angry with me?" Too astonished to make answer, he remained dumbly gazing into the teasing countenance; but at that moment Goursac, perceiving them, called out indulgently: "That's right, children; we don't live long enough for lovers to quarrel. I'll keep discreetly ahead." Barabant persisting in his silence, Nicole continued pleadingly: "Then you are still angry?" "Yes." "I am sorry." She said it in such a gentle tone, sighing slightly, that Barabant's anger held no longer; still, as a measure of policy, he kept silent.