"Are we to be frightened from drinking our toast by a little noise?" cried St. Hilaire. "What if it be the revolution? Let us drink to it. Come!" and they drained their glasses to the accompaniment of what sounded like a volley of musketry. The ladies looked pale and were glad to quit the table for the salon, where they were joined by the poet and the philosopher, leaving the others still at their wine. The Marquis de Lacheville took another glass, and then a third. "You had best be careful how you heat your blood with this rich wine, de Lacheville, while that wound in your side is scarcely healed," remarked d'Arlincourt. "Confound the wound, and curse the young villain who gave it me," growled de Lacheville. "I have been forced to lead the life of an anchorite for the past fortnight; but such nectar as this cannot inflame, it only soothes," and he reached out his hand toward the decanter. As he did so, the sound of guns reverberated again through the room, making the windows rattle and jarring the dishes on the table. The ladies in the adjoining room cried out in alarm, and d'Arlincourt rose and went to reassure them. "I will go with you," said the chevalier, and he joined the count. De Lacheville threw his napkin down upon the spot of wine that had splashed from his upraised glass upon the damask cloth. "The devil take them!" he cried petulantly; then filling his glass again with an air of bravado, "will they not permit a man to breakfast in peace?" "Your nerves must be badly shaken, de Lacheville, if you permit such a slight thing to disturb you," laughed St. Hilaire, filling a glass to the brim. D'Arlincourt entered from the next room hurriedly. "I am going to see what all this firing means," he said. "Will you accompany me, gentlemen?" "I make it a point never to seek for news or excitement, but rather allow them to come to me," said St. Hilaire leisurely. "You would better sit down and let me send a servant to ascertain the cause of this turmoil." "Why leave the house in search of truth when we have with us an oracle in the shape of the chevalier?" interposed the Marquis de Lacheville. "I shall be able to bring a more accurate account," replied d'Arlincourt with an impatient shrug. "As you will," said St. Hilaire. "Blaise, give the Count d'Arlincourt his hat and sword. Are you quite sure you do not want some of my lackeys to accompany you?" he asked. D'Arlincourt declined the offer and hastily left the room. The two marquises were left in possession of the dining-room and the wine. They both continued to drink, each after his own fashion. With each successive glass, de Lacheville became louder in voice and more boastful, while as St. Hilaire sipped his wine, he became quieter and more indifferent. Within ten minutes d'Arlincourt returned to them, his face betraying great excitement. "A mob has attacked and captured the Bastille. The multitude is surging through the streets. They will pass before this very door."