The letter being finished, he signed it with his workman’s signature.

But now a difficulty arose; how should it be conveyed to its destination?

Take it himself!

But would he, a mere workman in a blouse, be allowed to penetrate to the
Archbishop!

And then, in order to reach the Archiepiscopal Palace, he would have to cross those very quarters in insurrection, and where, perhaps, the resistance was still active.  He would have to pass through streets obstructed by troops, he would be arrested and searched; his hands smelt of powder, he would be shot; and the letter would not reach its destination.

What was to be done?

At the moment when he had almost despaired of a solution, the name of
Arnauld de l’Ariege came to his mind.

Arnauld de l’Ariege was a Representative after his own heart.  Arnauld de l’Ariege was a noble character.  He was a Catholic Democrat like the workman.  At the Assembly he raised aloft, but he bore nearly alone, that banner so little followed which aspires to ally the Democracy with the Church.  Arnauld de l’Ariege, young, handsome, eloquent, enthusiastic, gentle, and firm, combined the attributes of the Tribune with the faith of the knight.  His open nature, without wishing to detach itself from Rome, worshipped Liberty.  He had two principles, but he had not two faces.  On the whole the democratic spirit preponderated in him.  He said to me one day, “I give my hand to Victor Hugo.  I do not give it to Montalembert.”

The workman knew him.  He had often written to him, and had sometimes seen him.

Arnauld de l’Ariege lived in a district which had remained almost free.

The workman went there without delay.

Like the rest of us, as has been seen, Arnauld de l’Ariege had taken part in the conflict.  Like most of the Representatives of the Left, he had not returned home since the morning of the 2d.  Nevertheless, on the second day, he thought of his young wife whom he had left without knowing if he should see her again, of his baby of six months old which she was suckling, and which he had not kissed for so many hours, of that beloved hearth, of which at certain moments one feels an absolute need to obtain a fleeting glimpse, he could no longer resist; arrest, Mazas, the cell, the hulks, the firing party, all vanished, the idea of danger was obliterated, he went home.

It was precisely at that moment that the workman arrived there.

Arnauld de l’Ariege received him, read his letter, and approved of it.

Arnauld de l’Ariege knew the Archbishop of Paris personally.