to with the greatest attention. Gavard had not been able to keep his
tongue from wagging, but had gradually related the whole story of
Cayenne; and Florent found himself surrounded by a halo of martyrdom.
His words were received as though they were the expression of
indisputable dogmas. One evening, however, the poultry dealer, vexed
at hearing his friend, who happened to be absent, attacked, exclaimed:
"Don't say anything against Florent; he's been to Cayenne!"

Charvet was rather annoyed by the advantage which this circumstance
gave to Florent. "Cayenne, Cayenne," he muttered between his teeth. "Ah,
well, they were not so badly off there, after all."

Then he attempted to prove that exile was a mere nothing, and that real
suffering consisted in remaining in one's oppressed country, gagged in
presence of triumphant despotism. And besides, he urged, it wasn't his
fault that he hadn't been arrested on the Second of December. Next,
however, he hinted that those who had allowed themselves to be captured
were imbeciles. His secret jealousy made him a systematic opponent of
Florent; and the general discussions always ended in a duel between
these two, who, while their companions listened in silence, would speak
against one another for hours at a time, without either of them allowing
that he was beaten.

One of the favourite subjects of discussion was that of the
reorganisation of the country which would have to be effected on the
morrow of their victory.

"We are the conquerors, are we not?" began Gavard.

And, triumph being taken for granted, everyone offered his opinion.
There were two rival parties. Charvet, who was a disciple of Hebert, was
supported by Logre and Robine; while Florent, who was always absorbed
in humanitarian dreams, and called himself a Socialist, was backed by
Alexandre and Lacaille. As for Gavard, he felt no repugnance for violent
action; but, as he was often twitted about his fortune with no end of
sarcastic witticisms which annoyed him, he declared himself a Communist.

"We must make a clean sweep of everything," Charvet would curtly say, as
though he were delivering a blow with a cleaver. "The trunk is rotten,
and it must come down."

"Yes! yes!" cried Logre, standing up that he might look taller,
and making the partition shake with the excited motion of his hump.
"Everything will be levelled to the ground; take my word for it. After
that we shall see what to do."

Robine signified approval