"
He handed the gold coin to his wife, and then went out to put on his
National Guard's uniform, impelled thereto by the idea of making some
adequate return for the money; an idea that sometimes slips into a
tradesman's head when he has been prodigiously overpaid for goods of
no great value. He took up his cap, buckled on his sabre, and came out
in full dress. But his wife had had time to reflect, and reflection,
as not unfrequently happens, closed the hand that kindly intentions
had opened. Feeling frightened and uneasy lest her husband might be
drawn into something unpleasant, she tried to catch at the skirt of
his coat, to hold him back, but he, good soul, obeying his charitable
first thought, brought out his offer to see the lady home, before his
wife could stop him.
"The man of whom the citoyenne is afraid is still prowling about the
shop, it seems," she said sharply.
"I am afraid so," said the lady innocently.
"How if it is a spy? . . . a plot? . . . Don't go. And take the box
away from her----"
The words whispered in the pastry-cook's ear cooled his hot fit of
courage down to zero.
"Oh! I will just go out and say a word or two. I will rid you of him
soon enough," he exclaimed, as he bounced out of the shop.
The old lady meanwhile, passive as a child and almost dazed, sat down
on her chair again. But the honest pastry-cook came back directly.
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