"We have reason to be glad, mother; there is good news. La Vendee is crushed, the Austrians beaten, the Army of the Rhine has forced the lines of Lautern and of Wissembourg. The day is at hand when the Republic triumphant will show her clemency. Why must the conspirators' audacity increase the mightier the Republic waxes in strength, and traitors plot to strike the fatherland a blow in the dark at the very moment her lightnings overwhelm the enemies that assail her openly?" The _citoyenne_ Gamelin, as she sat knitting a stocking, was watching her son's face over her spectacles. "Berzelius, your old model, has been to ask for the ten livres you owed him; I paid him. Little Josephine has had a belly-ache from eating too much of the preserves the carpenter gave her. So I made her a drop of herb tea.... Desmahis has been to see you; he was sorry he did not find you in. He wanted to engrave a design by you. He thinks you have great talent. He is a fine fellow; he looked at your sketches and admired them." "When peace is re-established and conspiracy suppressed," said the painter, "I shall begin on my Orestes again. It is not my way to flatter myself; but that head is worthy of David's brush." He outlined with a majestic sweep the arm of his Victory. "She holds out palms," he said. "But it would be finer if her arms themselves were palms." "Evariste!" "Mother?" "I have had news ... guess, of whom...." "I do not know." "Of Julie ... of your sister.... She is not happy." "It would be a scandal if she were." "Do not speak so, my son, she is your sister. Julie is not a bad woman; she had a good disposition, which misfortune has developed. She loves you. I can assure you, Evariste, that she only desires a hard-working, exemplary life and her fondest wish is to be reconciled to her friends. There is nothing to prevent your seeing her again. She has married Fortune Chassagne." "She has written to you?" "No." "How, then, have you had news of her, mother?" "It was not by letter, Evariste; it was...." He sprang up and stopped her with a savage cry: "Not another word, mother! Do not tell me they have both returned to France.... As they are doomed to perish, at least let it not be at my hands. For their own sake, for yours, for mine, let me not know they are in Paris.... Do not force the knowledge on me; otherwise...." "What do you mean, my son? you would think, you would dare...?" "Mother, hear what I say; if I knew my sister Julie to be in that room ..." (and he pointed at the closed door), "I should go instantly to denounce her to the Committee of Vigilance of the Section." The poor mother, her face as white as her coif, dropped her knitting from her trembling hands and sighed in a voice fainter than the faintest whisper: "I would not believe it, but I see it now; my boy is a monster...."