El Dorado | Page 8

a view to a discussion like the present interrupted one that he had
invited St. Just to come to the theatre with him to-night, rather than for
the purpose of witnessing Mile. Lange's debut in the part of Celimene.
The presence of St. Just in Paris had as a matter of fact astonished de
Batz not a little, and had set his intriguing brain busy on conjectures. It
was in order to turn these conjectures into certainties that he had
desired private talk with the young man.
He waited silently now for a moment or two, his keen, small eyes
resting with evident anxiety on Armand's averted head, his fingers still
beating the impatient tattoo upon the velvet-covered cushion of the box.
Then at the first movement of St. Just towards him he was ready in an
instant to re-open the subject under discussion.
With a quick nod of his head he called his young friend's attention back

to the men in the auditorium.
"Your good cousin Antoine St. Just is hand and glove with Robespierre
now," he said. "When you left Paris more than a year ago you could
afford to despise him as an empty-headed windbag; now, if you desire
to remain in France, you will have to fear him as a power and a
menace."
"Yes, I knew that he had taken to herding with the wolves," rejoined
Armand lightly. "At one time he was in love with my sister. I thank
God that she never cared for him."
"They say that he herds with the wolves because of this
disappointment," said de Batz. "The whole pack is made up of men
who have been disappointed, and who have nothing more to lose.
When all these wolves will have devoured one another, then and then
only can we hope for the restoration of the monarchy in France. And
they will not turn on one another whilst prey for their greed lies ready
to their jaws. Your friend the Scarlet Pimpernel should feed this bloody
revolution of ours rather than starve it, if indeed he hates it as he seems
to do."
His restless eyes peered with eager interrogation into those of the
younger man. He paused as if waiting for a reply; then, as St. Just
remained silent, he reiterated slowly, almost in the tones of a challenge:
"If indeed he hates this bloodthirsty revolution of ours as he seems to
do."
The reiteration implied a doubt. In a moment St. Just's loyalty was up
in arms.
The Scarlet Pimpernel," he said, "cares naught for your political aims.
The work of mercy that he does, he does for justice and for humanity."
"And for sport," said de Batz with a sneer, "so I've been told."
"He is English," assented St. Just, " and as such will never own to

sentiment. Whatever be the motive, look at the result!
"Yes! a few lives stolen from the guillotine."
"Women and children--innocent victims--would have perished but for
his devotion."
"The more innocent they were, the more helpless, the more pitiable, the
louder would their blood have cried for reprisals against the wild beasts
who sent them to their death."
St. Just made no reply. It was obviously useless to attempt to argue
with this man, whose political aims were as far apart from those of the
Scarlet Pimpernel as was the North Pole from the South.
"If any of you have influence over that hot-headed leader of yours,"
continued de Batz, unabashed by the silence of his friend, "I wish to
God you would exert it now."
"In what way?" queried St. Just, smiling in spite of himself at the
thought of his or any one else's control over Blakeney and his plans.
It was de Batz' turn to be silent. He paused for a moment or two, then
he asked abruptly:
"Your Scarlet Pimpernel is in Paris now, is he not?"
"I cannot tell you," replied Armand.
"Bah! there is no necessity to fence with me, my friend. The moment I
set eyes on you this afternoon I knew that you had not come to Paris
alone."
"You are mistaken, my good de Batz," rejoined the young man
earnestly; "I came to Paris alone."
"Clever parrying, on my word--but wholly wasted on my unbelieving
ears. Did I not note at once that you did not seem overpleased to-day
when I accosted you?"

"Again you are mistaken. I was very pleased to meet you, for I had felt
singularly lonely all day, and was glad to shake a friend by the hand.
What you took for displeasure was only surprise."
"Surprise? Ah, yes! I don't wonder that you were surprised to see me
walking unmolested and openly in the streets of Paris--whereas you had
heard of me as a dangerous conspirator, eh ?--and