“Come, come!” cried Theroigne, “we must not quarrel with each other. It is the garments and the place. When Mirabeau gave us permission to ransack the mansion, and use what pleased us, he did not remember that the very atmosphere of luxury sickens a true patriot. Come, one and all! let us be ourselves again. We had a fancy to see how a nobleman, who grinds his luxuries out of the poor man’s labor, enjoyed his monopoly; but the whole thing surfeits me.” As she said this, Theroigne left the saloon, swept across the hall, and up the grand stair-case, followed by the whole party, except the host and Madame Du Berry, who had not joined in the harlequin frolic of the evening, having no curiosity to gratify regarding the usages of the aristocracy. When the last of his guests left the room, Mirabeau turned a somewhat anxious face on Du Berry. “Did this man terrify you, mademoiselle?” he said. “A little; he seems to regard me with peculiar spite.” “It is his nature; besides, he had been drinking too much wine!” “His very look made me shiver.” “But you must have more courage. It is with such men that you can have the influence we need.” “And this person from Liege?” questioned Du Berry doubtfully. Mirabeau smiled. “Now tell me,” said Du Berry, “what this strange scene means?” “Only this,” answered Mirabeau. “The house that I occupy, not long since belonged to a member of the court who very wisely emigrated, leaving all its appointments behind,—even, as you see, a portion of his wardrobe. He was a favorite with our friend at St. Cloud: and I received an invitation that my residence here might save it from pillage. I took possession. It was a dangerous experiment, for these people watch me with the vigilance of hounds. To-night I gave them a supper, inviting the most violent of the clubs. They believe, and I permit it, that I have taken a brigand’s possession of this house, and insisted on ransacking it from top to bottom. In the wardrobe they found some rich dresses, which the owner feared to encumber himself with; and at the instigation of Theroigne, of Liege, got up the scene you have witnessed. It is wonderful how eagerly our Jacobins seize upon every opportunity to lift themselves, if it is only for an hour, into an atmosphere of luxury, while they pretend to despise it.” “Hark!” said madame, under her breath, “it seemed to me, as if some one stirred.” “No; it is only our friends casting off their nobility. Was anything ever more absurd than the scene they enacted?” Madame burst into a hearty laugh. “Oh, _mon Dieu_! I never shall forget Marat in that dress. It was a hyena in the silver fox-skin. How his eyes peered out from under the curling wig. It was superb!” Again madame broke into a mellow laugh, and mimicked the awkward pose of Marat in his aristocratic dress, with inimitable humor. Mirabeau laughed till the tears came into his great, bold eyes. Then madame gave a comic imitation of Theroigne.