ook out his purse.

“It is extraordinary to me,” said he, “that you people cannot

take care of yourselves and your children. One or the other of you

is for ever in the way. How do I know what injury you have done

my horses? See! Give him that.”

He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pick up, and all the

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heads craned forward that all the eyes might look down as it fell.

The tall man called out again with a most unearthly cry, “Dead!”

He was arrested by the quick arrival of another man, for whom

the rest made way. On seeing him, the miserable creature fell

upon his shoulder, sobbing and crying, and pointing to the

fountain, where some women were stooping over the motionless

bundle, and moving gently about it. They were as silent, however,

as the men.

“I know all, I know all,” said the last comer. “Be a brave man,

my Gaspard! It is better for the poor little plaything to die so, than

to live. It has died in a moment without pain. Could it have lived

an hour as happily?”

“You are a philosopher, you there,” said the Marquis, smiling.

“How do they call you?”

“They call me Defarge.”

“Of what trade?”

“Monsieur the Marquis, vendor of wine.”

“Pick up that, philosopher and vendor of wine,” said the

Marquis, throwing him another gold coin, “and spend it as you