I exclaimed, “And who would you have erect if the Faubourg St. Antoine be prostrate!  Who will be alive if the people be dead!”

The engineer went to the street door, made certain that it was well shut, then came back, and said,—­

“There are many men ready and willing.  It is the leaders who are wanting.  Listen, Citizen Victor Hugo, I can say this to you, and,” he added, lowering his voice, “I hope for a movement to-night.”

“Where?”

“On the Faubourg St. Marceau.”

“At what time?”

“At one o’clock.”

“How do you know it?”

“Because I shall be there.”

He continued:  “Now, Citizen Victor Hugo, if a movement takes place to-night in the Faubourg St. Marceau, will you head it?  Do you consent?”

“Yes.”

“Have you your scarf of office?”

I half drew it out of my pocket.  His eyes glistened with joy.

“Excellent,” said he.  “The Citizen has his pistols, the Representative his scarf.  All are armed.”

I questioned him.  “Are you sure of your movement for to-night?”

He answered me, “We have prepared it, and we reckon to be there.”

“In that case,” said I, “as soon as the first barricade is constructed I will be behind it.  Come and fetch me.”

“Where?”

“Wherever I may be.”

He assured me that if the movement should take place during the night he would know it at half-past ten that evening at the latest, and that I should be informed of it before eleven o’clock.  We settled that in whatever place I might be at that hour I would send word to Auguste, who undertook to let him know.

The young woman continued to peep out at us.  The conversation was growing prolonged, and might seem singular to the people in the parlor.  “I am going,” said I to Auguste.

I had opened the door, he took my hand, pressed it as a woman might have done, and said to me in a deeply-moved tone, “You are going:  will you come back?”

“I do not know.”

“It is true,” said he.  “No one knows what is going to happen.  Well, you are perhaps going to be hunted and sought for as I have been.  It will perhaps be your turn to be shot, and mine to save you.  You know the mouse may sometimes prove useful to the lion.  Monsieur Victor Hugo, if you need a refuge, this house is yours.  Come here.  You will find a bed where you can sleep, and a man who will lay down his life for you.”

I thanked him by a hearty shake of the hand, and I left.  Eight o’clock struck.  I hastened towards the Rue de Charonne.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE REPRESENTATIVES HUNTED DOWN

At the corner of the Rue de Faubourg St. Antoine before the shop of the grocer Pepin, on the same spot where the immense barricade of June, 1848, was erected as high as the second story, the decrees of the morning had been placarded.  Some men were inspecting them, although it was pitch dark, and they could not read them, and an old woman said, “The ‘Twenty-five francs’ are crushed—­so much the better!”