The hostess appearing with a capacious bowl, he returned to his corner, where he contemplated the soup with that respect and curiosity which a Parisian gives to a dish of which he has not had the making. He stirred it doubtfully, and at the first taste drew a long face. "Tonnerre de Dieu! They've put the aristocrats in the soup," he grumbled. "However, being good patriots, we must eat it." He was bending over the bowl, when a shadow darkened the open doorway, and with the fragrant scent of flowers came the voice of Louison, chanting: "Cockades, patriots; cockades, my Sans-Culottes. The last ones I have been able to save for you." She passed among them, calling to them by name, tapping them on the shoulders, but receiving nothing but banter. "Are they good to eat--your cockades?" "As a salad, nothing is better." Taking up the idea, she repeated laughingly: "Buy my salads, citoyens; buy my patriotic salads!" Wishing to enjoy her surprise, Dossonville kept silent, leaning forward, his chin in his palm, smiling expectantly. Thus Louison discovered him. The very slightest look of astonishment passed over her face, a fugitive amazement that she immediately controlled. "Louison, you are discretion itself," Dossonville said approvingly, his smile extending to a grin as he stretched forth his hand. "If ever the Revolution places women in power (and what is impossible to-day?), I'll recommend you for Minister of Foreign Affairs." "Citoyen, citoyen, you are mad to enter this place," Louison cried. "Do you not know that this is the headquarters of Javogues?" "I know it; but see you, Louison, that animal is so stupid." Divining that despite his careless manner he was fortified against the encounter, she relaxed and said more calmly: "Really, I didn't expect that you'd escape." "My dear Louison, it is not so difficult." "In these days it is." "A man has as many lives as a cat," he said ironically. "It is the imagination that is lacking." As though to put this theory to the test, a voice jarred upon the stillness, crying: "Where is the spy?" The next instant the cabaret was thrown into turmoil as Javogues, at the head of three or four companions, rushed in. "Good day, citoyen," Dossonville's cool voice was heard saying above the uproar, "and how goes it with you since we parted last?" Guided by his voice, Javogues precipitated himself toward his enemy, but as his hand shot forth it stopped in mid-air, and he fell back in astonishment. Dossonville, never losing his poise, with an imperceptible movement of his hand had rolled back the lapel of his redingote, disclosing on his breast the shield of an agent de sûreté. "Impossible!" Javogues exclaimed, recoiling. "You an agent de sûreté! It's a counterfeit!" Dossonville checked the second rush as coolly as the first. His hand went into his breast pocket and withdrew a document, which he tendered to Javogues on the tips of his fingers, saying: "Read, and grow wise."