A few moments afterwards we turned to the left, and we entered into a blind alley of considerable length and dimly lighted by an old oil lamp—­one of those with which Paris was formerly lighted—­then again to the left, and we entered through a narrow passage into a large courtyard encumbered with sheds and building materials.  This time we had reached Cournet’s.

CHAPTER XIX.

ONE FOOT IN THE TOMB

Cournet was waiting for us.  He received us on the ground floor, in a parlor where there was a fire, a table, and some chairs; but the room was so small that a quarter of us filled it to overflowing, and the others remained in the courtyard.  “It is impossible to deliberate here,” said Bancel.  “I have a larger room on the first floor,” answered Cournet, “but it is a building in course of construction, which is not yet furnished, and where there is no fire.”—­“What does it matter?” they answered him.  “Let us go up to the first floor.”

We went up to the first floor by a steep and narrow wooden staircase, and we took possession of two rooms with very low ceilings, but of which one was sufficiently large.  The walls were whitewashed, and a few straw-covered stools formed the whole of its furniture.

They called out to me, “Preside.”

I sat down on one of the stools in the corner of the first room, with the fire place on my right and on my left the door opening upon the staircase.  Baudin said to me, “I have a pencil and paper.  I will act as secretary to you.”  He sat down on a stool next to me.

The Representatives and those present, amongst whom were several men in blouses, remained standing, forming in front of Baudin and myself a sort of square, backed by the two walls of the room opposite to us.  This crowd extended as far as the staircase.  A lighted candle was placed on the chimney-piece.

A common spirit animated this meeting.  The faces were pale, but in every eye could be seen the same firm resolution.  In all these shadows glistened the same flame.  Several simultaneously asked permission to speak.  I requested them to give their names to Baudin, who wrote them down, and then passed me the list.

The first speaker was a workman.  He began by apologizing for mingling with the Representatives, he a stranger to the Assembly.  The Representatives interrupted him.  “No, no,” they said, “the People and Representatives are all one!  Speak—!” He declared that if he spoke it was in order to clear from all suspicion the honor of his brethren, the workmen of Paris; that he had heard some Representatives express doubt about them.  He asserted that this was unjust, that the workmen realized the whole crime of M. Bonaparte and the whole duty of the People, that they would not be deaf to the appeal of the Republican Representatives, and that this would be clearly shown.  He said all this, simply, with a sort of proud shyness and of honest bluntness.  He kept his word.  I found him the next day fighting on the Rambuteau barricade.