"Correct!" replied the workingman. "Here it is, madam."
"And in his vest," said another workingman after searching another of the thief's pockets, "six hundred-sou pieces and one forty-sou piece."
"My thirty-two francs!" cried the tradeswoman. "Thank you, my dear men, thank you!"
"That part being settled, my young fellow, you must now settle scores with us," proceeded the ragpicker. "You stole and meant to commit murder in the name of the people, did you not? Answer!"
"What is all this pother about, my friends, are we engaged in a revolution, or are we not?" answered the thief in a hoarse voice and affecting a cynical laugh. "Well, then, let us break into the money boxes!"
"Is that what you understand by a revolution?" asked the ragpicker. "To break into the money boxes?"
"Well?"
"Accordingly, you believe the people rise in revolt for the purpose of stealing—brigand that you are?"
"What other purpose have you, then, in insurrecting, you pack of hypocrites? Is it, perhaps, for honor's sake?" replied the thief brazenly.
The group of armed men, the ragpicker excepted, who stood around the thief, consulted for a moment in a low voice. One of them, noticing the door of a grocery store standing ajar went thither; two others went in another direction, saying: