The incident was forgotten in the discussions which ensued.  Since Logre had suggested a conspiracy, Monsieur Lebigre had grasped the hands of the frequenters of the little room with more vigor than ever.  Their custom, to tell the truth, was of but small value to him, for they never ordered more than one “drink” apiece.  They drained the last drops just as they rose to leave, having been careful to allow a little to remain in their glasses, even during their most heated arguments.  In this wise the one “shout” lasted throughout the evening.  They shivered as they turned out into the cold dampness of the night, and for a moment or two remained standing on the footway with dazzled eyes and buzzing ears, as though surprised by the dark silence of the street.  Rose, meanwhile, fastened the shutters behind them.  Then, quite exhausted, at a loss for another word they shook hands, separated, and went their different ways, still mentally continuing the discussion of the evening, and regretting that they could not ram their particular theories down each other’s throats.  Robine walked away, with his bent back bobbing up and down, in the direction of the Rue Rambuteau; whilst Charvet and Clemence went off through the markets on their return to the Luxembourg quarter, their heels sounding on the flag-stones in military fashion, whilst they still discussed some question of politics or philosophy, walking along side by side, but never arm-in-arm.

The conspiracy ripened very slowly.  At the commencement of the summer the plotters had got no further than agreeing that it was necessary a stroke should be attempted.  Florent, who had at first looked upon the whole business with a kind of distrust, had now, however, come to believe in the possibility of a revolutionary movement.  He took up the matter seriously; making notes, and preparing plans in writing, while the others still did nothing but talk.  For his part, he began to concentrate his whole life in the one persistent idea which made his brain throb night after night; and this to such a degree that he at last took his brother Quenu with him to Monsieur Lebigre’s, as though such a course were quite natural.  Certainly he had no thought of doing anything improper.  He still looked upon Quenu as in some degree his pupil, and may even have considered it his duty to start him on the proper path.  Quenu was an absolute novice in politics, but after spending five or six evenings in the little room he found himself quite in accord with the others.  When Lisa was not present he manifested much docility, a sort of respect for his brother’s opinions.  But the greatest charm of the affair for him was really the mild dissipation of leaving his shop and shutting himself up in the little room where the others shouted so loudly, and where Clemence’s presence, in his opinion, gave a tinge of rakishness and romance to the proceedings.  He now made all haste with his chitterlings in order that he might get away as early as possible, anxious