Then turning towards me— “My poor friend, you used to take so much delight in declaring, from time to time, that you loved me; you will never tell me so again!” THE BOON OF DEATH BESTOWED TO ALBERT TOURNIER THE BOON OF DEATH BESTOWED When he had for a long while tramped through the deserted streets, André at last went and sat down on the bank of the Seine and watched the water lapping the base of the hill where, in the vanished days of joy and hope, Lucie, his dear mistress, had her home. For long enough he had not felt so restful. At eight o’clock he took a bath. Then he strolled into a restaurant in the Palais Royal, and glanced through the newspapers whilst his meal was preparing. In the _Courier of Equality_ he read the list of the condemned prisoners who had been executed on the Place de la Révolution on the 24th of Floréal. He ate his breakfast heartily. Then he rose, looked in a glass to make sure that he was presentably dressed, and that his colour was not likely to betray him, and set out at an easy pace to the other side of the river towards the low house at the corner of the Rue de Seine and the Rue Mazarine. Here were the quarters of Citizen Lardillon, deputy public prosecutor at the revolutionary tribunal, a man well disposed towards André, who had known him first as a capuchin at Angers, and later as a _sans-culotte_ in Paris. He rang, and after an interval of some few minutes, a figure appeared behind a grating commanding the entrance, and Citizen Lardillon, having prudently satisfied himself as to the appearance and name of his visitor, at length threw open the door. His face was broad, his colour high, his eyes glittering, his lips moist, and his ears red. He looked a jovial but worried man. He led André into his ante-chamber. There, on a small round table, a meal for two was set out. There was a chicken, a pie, a ham, a terrine of foie-gras and various cold meats in aspic. On the floor six bottles were cooling in a pail. A pineapple, cheese of various kinds, and preserved fruits occupied the mantelpiece, and flasks of liqueurs were deposited on a desk littered with papers. Through the half-open door of the adjoining room a large bed was visible, not yet made. “Citizen Lardillon,” began André, “I have come to beg a favour of you.” “I am quite ready to grant it, citizen, provided it involves no risk to the security of the Republic.” André smilingly replied— “The service I ask you to do me is not in the least compromising to the safety of either the Republic or yourself.”