the hushed silence of the garden, while
children trundled their hoops in the deep gloom of the chestnuts. And
then, on seeing that big fair-haired animal massacring his boxful of
birds, stunning them with the handle of his knife and driving its point
into their throats, in the depths of that foul-smelling cellar, he had
felt sick and faint, his legs had almost given way beneath him, while
his eyelids quivered tremulously.

"Well, you'd never do for a soldier!" Claude said to him when he
recovered from his faintness. "Those who sent you to Cayenne must have
been very simple-minded folks to fear such a man as you! Why, my good
fellow, if ever you do put yourself at the head of a rising, you won't
dare to fire a shot. You'll be too much afraid of killing somebody."

Florent got up without making any reply. He had become very gloomy, his
face was furrowed by deep wrinkles; and he walked off, leaving Claude to
go back to the cellar alone. As he made his way towards the fish market
his thoughts returned to his plan of attack, to the levies of armed men
who were to invade the Palais Bourbon. Cannon would roar from the Champs
Elysees; the gates would be burst open; blood would stain the steps, and
men's brains would bespatter the pillars. A vision of the fight passed
rapidly before him; and he beheld himself in the midst of it, deadly
pale, and hiding his face in his hands, not daring to look around him.

As he was crossing the Rue du Pont Neuf he fancied he espied Auguste's
pale face peering round the corner of the fruit pavilion. The assistant
seemed to be watching for someone, and his eyes were starting from his
head with an expression of intense excitement. Suddenly, however, he
vanished and hastened back to the pork shop.

"What's the matter with him?" thought Florent. "Is he frightened of me,
I wonder?"

Some very serious occurrences had taken place that morning at the
Quenu-Gradelles'. Soon after daybreak, Auguste, breathless with
excitement, had awakened his mistress to tell her that the police
had come to arrest Monsieur Florent. And he added, with stammering
incoherence, that the latter had gone out, and that he must have done so
with the intention of escaping. Lisa, careless of appearances, at once
hurried up to her brother-in-law's room in her dressing-wrapper, and
took possession of La Normande's photograph, after glancing round to
see if there was anything lying about that might compromise herself and
Quenu.