has survived the events of the night of
the 4th, and as he since escaped the denunciations, it can be understood
that we will not mention his name here, and that we shall confine
ourselves to terming him throughout the course of this story by his
trade, calling him the "last-maker."[27]

"What do you want to say to me?" I asked him.

He explained that matters were not hopeless, that he and his friends
meant to continue the resistance, that the meeting-places of the
Societies had not yet been settled, but that they would be during the
evening, that my presence was desired, and that if I would be under the
Colbert Arcade at nine o'clock, either himself or another of their men
would be there, and would serve me as guide. We decided that in order to
make himself known, the messenger, when accosting me, should give the
password, "What is Joseph doing?"

I do not know whether he thought he noticed any doubt or mistrust on my
part. He suddenly interrupted himself, and said,--

"After all, you are not bound to believe me. One does not think of
everything: I ought to have asked them to give me a word in writing. At
a time like this one distrusts everybody."

"On the contrary," I said to him, "one trusts everybody. I will be in
the Colbert Arcade at nine o'clock."

And I left him.

I re-entered my asylum. I was tired, I was hungry, I had recourse to
Charamaule's chocolate and to a small piece of bread which I had still
left. I sank down into an arm-chair, I ate and I slept. Some slumbers
are gloomy. I had one of those slumbers, full of spectres; I again saw
the dead child and the two red holes in his forehead, these formed two
mouths: one said "Morny," and the other "Saint-Arnaud." History is not
made, however, to recount dreams. I will abridge. Suddenly I awoke. I
started: "If only it is not past nine o'clock!" I had forgotten to wind
up my watch. It had stopped. I went out hastily. The street was lonely,
the shops were shut. In the Place Louvos I heard the hour striking
(probably from Saint Roch); I listened. I counted nine strokes. In a few
moments I was under the Colbert Arcade. I peered into the darkness. No
one was under the Arcade.

I felt that it was impossible to remain there, and have the appearance
of waiting about; near the Colbert Arcade there is a police-station, and
the patrols were passing every moment. I plunged into the street. I
found no one there. I went as far as the Rue Vivienne. At the corner of