Monsieur Lebrenn and his son were hard at work raising the barricade a few paces above their door when they were joined by George Duchene, the young carpenter, who arrived in the company of a score of armed men, the members of a demi-section of the secret society with which they, together with the linendraper, were affiliated.
Among these new recruits were the barrowman and the two truckmen who had brought the arms and munitions to the shop in the course of the afternoon. Dupont, who had driven the truck, was a mechanic; of the other two, one was a man of letters, the other an eminent scientist.
George Duchene approached Lebrenn as the latter, having stopped working on the barricade for a moment, stood at the door of his shop distributing arms and ammunition among the men of his own quarter upon whom he felt sure he could rely, while Gildas, the previous poltroonery of whom had been transformed into heroism from the instant the sinister cart of corpses passed before him, emerged from the cellar with several baskets of wine, which he poured out to the men at work at the barricade, to steel them to their task.
Clad in his blouse, George carried a carbine in his hand and a bunch of cartridges tied up in a handkerchief hanging from his belt. He said to the merchant:
"I did not arrive earlier, Monsieur Lebrenn, because we had to cross a large number of barricades. They are rising on all sides. I left Caussidiere and Sobrier behind—they are making ready to march upon the Prefecture; Lesserre, Lagrange, Etienne Arago are, at the earliest dawn, to march upon the Tuileries, and barricade Richelieu Street. Our other friends distributed themselves in various quarters."
"And the troops, George?"
"Several regiments fraternize with the National Guard and the people, and join in the shouts of 'Long live the Reform!' 'Down with Louis Philippe!' On the other hand, the Municipal Guard and two or three regiments of the line show themselves hostile to the movement."
"Poor soldiers!" observed the merchant sadly. "They, like ourselves, are under the identical and fatal spell that arms brothers against one another. Well, let us hope this struggle will be the last. And your grandfather, George; did you succeed in making him feel at ease?"
"Yes, monsieur; I just come from him. Despite his great age and weakness, he wanted to accompany me. I finally managed to induce him to stay indoors."
"My wife and daughter are yonder," said the merchant, pointing toward the lattices on the first floor, through which the gleam of a lighted lamp could be seen. "They are busy preparing bandages and lint for the wounded. We shall set up a hospital in the shop."