No one knew that he had ascended the rostrum; all were equally ignorant of his descent. Perhaps I was the only one who noticed the look of malignant hatred with which he regarded that knot of literary and scientific men, who had utterly disregarded—whether wilfully or not—himself and his discourse. Presently, Duplay took my arm, and led me out of the hall. “Return in a year,” he said, “and your eyes will be opened. There will be fewer plumes, fewer epaulets, less embroidery, but more men.” CHAPTER XVI. PARIS BEFORE THE REVOLUTION. I wished to go to the Rue Grange Batélière, where M. Drouet lived, and where he had appointed a rendezvous at the “Hotel des Postes;” but M. Duplay insisting that I should partake of the hospitality of a bed, as I had already done of the table, I felt that I could not well refuse. It was arranged that I should share Félicién’s room, in which they made me up a bed. On the morrow, at daybreak, I should be at liberty to seek out M. Drouet, after my hair had been arranged according to the new fashion. As that was an operation which must be performed sooner or later, on entering the house I seized upon a pair of scissors, handed them to Mademoiselle Cornelie, and asked her to perform on me the same feat that Delilah performed on Samson—viz., to cut off my flowing locks. The sacrifice was consummated amid the laughter of the two girls. One person alone did not join in the merriment thus provoked, and that person was he whose room I was going to share for the night. It was evident to me that he loved Cornelie, and was jealous of me—absurd idea; but the first stage of jealousy is absurdity. The operation was over; they led me to a mirror to see if I were satisfied with the change worked in my personal appearance. At the first glance I felt inclined to laugh myself; I was more than clipped—I was almost shorn. My ridiculous appearance restored Félicién to good humor with Mademoiselle Cornelie; and, as the servant appeared to announce that the room was prepared, he asked me to follow him, and he would show the way. The first things that I remarked on entering the room were a pair of fencing foils, and a couple of masks to protect the face. I thought these rather strange ornaments for the bed-chamber of an apprenticed carpenter. “Do you know what those are for?” asked he with a braggart air. “Yes,” replied I. “Can you use them?” “Not particularly well at present; but another month or two in the Salle d’Armes will improve me, I hope.” “To-morrow,” said he, “if you like, we will have a bout.” “I am not sure whether I shall be able to. I fear that M. Drouet will be anxious about me.” “Will you have a bout now?” said he. “Certainly,” I replied, “if you wish it; but we have plenty of time before us. I shall not leave Paris without returning to thank M. Duplay, and then we shall have a better opportunity.”