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The staunch old gentleman was still in his trust; had never left

it. He and his books were in frequent requisition as to property

confiscated and made national. What he could save for the owners,

he saved. No better man living to hold fast by what Tellson's had

in keeping, and to hold his peace.

A murky red and yellow sky, and a rising mist from the Seine,

denoted the approach of darkness. It was almost dark when they

arrived at the Bank. The stately residence of Monseigneur was

altogether blighted and deserted. Above a heap of dust and ashes

in the court, ran the letters: National Property. Republic One

and Indivisible. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death!