"Citizen Danton brought me the violets himself, and citizen Santerre the narcissi, and that laurel wreath--is it not charming ?--that was a tribute from citizen Robespierre himself." She was so artless, so simple, and so natural that Heron was completely taken off his usual mental balance.

He had expected to find the usual setting to the dramatic episodes which he was wont to conduct--screaming women, a man either at bay, sword in hand, or hiding in a linen cupboard or up a chimney.
Now everything puzzled him.

De Batz--he was quite sure--had spoken of an Englishman, a follower of the Scarlet Pimpernel; every thinking French patriot knew that all the followers of the Scarlet Pimpernel were Englishmen with red hair and prominent teeth, whereas this man....
Armand--who deadly danger had primed in his improvised role--was striding up and down the room declaiming with ever-varying intonations: "Joignez tous vos efforts contre un espoir si doux Pour en venir a bout, c'est trop peu que de vous." "No! no!" said mademoiselle impatiently; "you must not make that ugly pause midway in the last line: 'pour en venir a bout, c'est trop peu que de vous!'" She mimicked Armand's diction so quaintly, imitating his stride, his awkward gesture, and his faulty phraseology with such funny exaggeration that Heron laughed in spite of himself.
"So that is a cousin from Orleans, is it ?" he asked, throwing his lanky body into an armchair, which creaked dismally under his weight.
"Yes! a regular gaby--what ?" she said archly.

"Now, citizen Heron, you must stay and take coffee with me.

Aunt Marie will be bringing it in directly.