sewn into the waist-belt of his trousers,--having it renewed every
year with its own added interest and the amount of his savings.

"Hey! what do I care," cried Nicolas, replying to Godain's prudent
advice not to talk before Niseron. "If I'm doomed to be a soldier I'd
rather the sawdust of the basket sucked up my blood than have it
dribbled out drop by drop in the battles. I'll deliver this country of
at least one of those Arminacs that the devil has launched upon us."

And he related what he called Michaud's plot against him, which Marie
and Bonnebault had overheard.

"Where do you expect France to find soldiers?" said the white-haired
old man, rising and standing before Nicolas during the silence which
followed the utterance of this threat.

"We serve our time and come home again," remarked Bonnebault, twirling
his moustache.

Observing that all the worst characters of the neighborhood were
collecting, Pere Niseron shook his head and left the tavern, after
offering a farthing to Madame Tonsard in payment for his glass of
wine. When the worthy man had gone down the steps a movement of relief
and satisfaction passed through the assembled drinkers which would
have told whoever watched them that each man in that company felt he
was rid of the living image of his own conscience.

"Well, what do you say to all that, hey, Courtecuisse?" asked
Vaudoyer, who had just come in, and to whom Tonsard had related
Vatel's attempt.