"Barabant," he cried, "I will say but one thing: my life is on your head." "That is absurd," protested Barabant. "Javogues is in prison. He will be condemned." "He will not remain there one hour!" Goursac replied curtly; but conquering his dejection, he extended his hand. "Barabant, I know you meant well--but you made a mistake. Remember what I say!" "Meaning I have betrayed you?" Goursac made no answer. Barabant, turning brusquely, repeated the question: "Citoyen, did I do wrong?" "Barabant, my young friend," Goursac answered, avoiding the question, "when I meet a snake, I do not stop to ask if it is another's property!" "Then I was wrong?" "If Javogues loses his neck and we keep ours, no. If Javogues keeps his--" He rubbed his own solicitously, it being unnecessary to complete the sentence. * * * * * By six o'clock the prophecy of Goursac was confirmed, and the inhabitants of the Rue Maugout learned, without astonishment, that Javogues had been liberated and was in hiding. XV LOVE, LIFE, AND DEATH From above there came the shrill, rebellious cry of a woman. Below, in the court, the tenants were gathered, seeking refuge from the heat of the night. A few lights upon the sheer walls and the faint glow of the descended moon illuminated the dim groups: the men against the wall, the women clustered in the center. The cry was repeated, rising shriller. From the wall the exclamations arose: "It isn't gay!" "Sangdieu, two in a week! There's no peace left!" "Eh, citoyen, if we're to fight all Europe, we must have soldiers!" A peddler, a transient from la Mère Corniche's cellar, added in high tones: "Thank God, just the same, we're men!" The crones listened critically, without emotion, resuming their old wives' tales when the cry had ceased. Once a child, more keenly responsive to suffering, burst into a frightened whimper; but the mother, with an exclamation of impatience, sprang up and with a slap silenced the child, crying: "Little brat, who told you to do that!" Under the torch that lighted the entrance to the stairs the ghoulish figure of la Mère Corniche hobbled forth, returning from her inspection. "Well, what news?" a voice cried. "Eh, it'll be all night now," she answered peevishly. "I'm going to get some sleep." The women, hearing this, broke up and departed to their rooms; the men began to grumble: "What the devil's to be done?" "I'm for the cabaret." "You can't stay here." "There's no sleep to-night. Come on to the cabaret." "You'll join us, Citoyen Goursac?" "No; I'm remaining here." "And you, Citoyen Barabant?" "I also." "Morbleu, you've strange tastes!" They shuffled away, leaving Barabant and Goursac, with their backs to the maple-tree, in possession of the empty darkness.