The Empire would not pay his debts--that Empire which alone could save him.

He jumped out of bed in his night-shirt, crying: "No; I'll take my gun; I would rather let the insurgents kill me." "Well!" Felicite rejoined, with great composure, "you can have that done to-morrow or the day after; the Republicans are not far off.

And that way will do as well as another to make an end of matters." Pierre shuddered.

It seemed as if some one had suddenly poured a large pail of cold water over his shoulders.

He slowly got into bed again, and when he was warmly wrapped up in the sheets, he began to cry.