Barabant, astounded at this acquaintance with his doings, dropped his jaw.
"So, do you think I would employ you without some knowledge of your actions?" He enjoyed for a moment Barabant's embarrassment. "Come, and Santerre shall reassure you." At the door he paused, cast a rapid glance at the impoverished fittings, and drew out his purse. "Republican or not, the essential thing is to dine." Then evading the young fellow's thanks, he led the way into the city.
It was now toward twilight. The streets were choked with laborers returning home. In the air was an unwonted stir, a muttering, defiant and eager, as the crowd discussed openly, with impassioned questions, the prospective attack on the Tuileries.
"It is for to-night, sure?"
"For to-night, yes, at the tocsin."
"It's true, is it, the National Guards are coming over?"
"They've armed the Marseillais."
"Who?"
"Pétion."
"Vive Pétion!"