“Do you hear them?” said Cardez. “The gallows, indeed! And what have I done to them? Simply exact from them a conscientious amount of work, and respect for the regulations. The gallows! If they think they can frighten me with their threats they are mistaken. An old soldier like myself cannot be intimidated so easily. Besides, these are nothing but idle cries; no deeds will follow!” “Have you written to my father and uncle?” asked Marcel. “I have telephoned to them. They must, by this time, have entered into relations with the prefect to insure the protection of the works, and respect for the rights of labour. But for that troops will be needed, and no one can tell how far things will go with people of the character of these Champagne fools. We have a loyal police at Ars, who are well known and respected. I think that ought to be sufficient.” “Are you afraid of a conflict?” “I am afraid of nothing, but I am obliged to take every precaution. Our Ars workmen, as I said, are more noisy than evil-intentioned. But there are strangers who have incited them to action, and it is with them that we shall have to deal.” “A mob is a brute force, both blind and deaf. You cannot undeceive a hundred men. If they all clamour aloud at once, how can any possible understanding be reached?” “That is what leaders of strikes rely upon! Tumult and violence. To-morrow I shall receive a delegation of workmen, with whom, I hope, it will be possible to come to reasonable terms.” “I will help you.” “If you wish.” “Will there be any hostile manifestation this evening?” “No. Not before to-morrow.” “Then I will go and dine. Good night.” Baudoin was waiting for him. In serving his meal the devoted servant, to whom Marcel permitted a certain amount of familiarity, lingered near the table instead of returning to the kitchen. He looked carefully at his master, and seemed to wish to read his secret impressions on his face. Never had the young man been so silent and preoccupied as during the past few days. In solitude he lived over again the hours he had spent in the company of the beautiful Italian, and never appeared tired of thinking about her. Not a word did he say, but his countenance was illumined by an inner radiance. Still, in spite of his absentmindedness, Baudoin’s persistence in standing there before him, like a note of interrogation, struck Marcel at last. Looking at him for a moment, he said— “What is the matter with you, this evening, Baudoin? You seem quite agitated.” “One might be so with less cause. You are aware, sir, that the employees have assumed a very threatening attitude?” “Well! Are you afraid?” “No, indeed, sir, not for myself, at any rate!” “For whom, then?” “For yourself, sir. When I left Paris M. Baradier gave me precise orders to protect you from all harm. If anything were to happen I should not know what to do. That is what agitates me, as you say, sir.” “There is nothing to do, Baudoin, except wait.”