“To what?”

“To leave this factory, in which they grow effeminate and selfish, and forget their brothers.”

“But if they leave the factory, how are they to live?”

“We will provide for that—­on the great day.”

“And what’s to be done till then?”

“What you have done last night—­drink, laugh, sing, and, by way of work, exercise themselves privately in the use of arms.’

“Who will bring these workmen here?”

“Some one has already spoken to them.  They have had printed papers, reproaching them with indifference to their brothers.  Come, will you support me?”

“I’ll support you—­the more readily as I cannot very well support myself.  I only cared for Cephyse in the world; I know that I am on a bad road; you are pushing me on further; let the ball roll!—­Whether we go to the devil one way or the other is not of much consequence.  Let’s drink.”

“Drink to our next night’s fun; the last was only apprenticeship.”

“Of what then are you made?  I looked at you, and never saw you either blush or smile, or change countenance.  You are like a man of iron.”

“I am not a lad of fifteen.  It would take something more to make me laugh.  I shall laugh to-night.”

“I don’t know if it’s the brandy; but, devil take me, if you don’t frighten me when you say you shall laugh tonight!”

So saying, the young man rose, staggering; he began to be once more intoxicated.

There was a knock at the door.  “Come in!” The host made his appearance.

“What’s the matter?”

“There’s a young man below, who calls himself Olivier.  He asks for M. Morok.”

“That’s right.  Let him came up.”  The host went out.

“It is one of our men, but he is alone,” said Morok, whose savage countenance expressed disappointment.  “It astonishes me, for I expected a good number.  Do you know him?”

“Olivier?  Yes—­a fair chap, I think.”

“We shall see him directly.  Here he is.”  A young man, with an open, bold, intelligent countenance, at this moment entered the room.

“What! old Sleepinbuff!” he exclaimed, at sight of Morok’s companion.

“Myself.  I have not seen you for an age, Olivier.”

“Simple enough, my boy.  We do not work at the same place.”

“But you are alone!” cried Morok; and pointing to Sleepinbuff, he added:  “You may speak before him—­he is one of us.  But why are you alone?”

“I come alone, but in the name of my comrades.”

“Oh!” said Morok, with a sigh of satisfaction, “they consent.”

“They refuse—­just as I do!”

“What, the devil! they refuse?  Have they no more courage than women?” cried Morok, grinding his teeth with rage.

“Hark ye,” answered Olivier, coolly.  “We have received your letters, and seen your agent.  We have had proof that he is really connected with great societies, many members of which are known to us.”