The others, however, to all appearance eagerly absorbed whatever the inspector said.  When Charvet saw Florent’s clothes hanging from every peg, he pretended not to know where he could put his hat so that it would not be soiled.  He swept away the papers that lay about the little room, declaring that there was no longer any comfort for anyone in the place since that “gentleman” had taken possession of it.  He even complained to the landlord, and asked if the room belonged to a single customer or to the whole company.  This invasion of his realm was indeed the last straw.  Men were brutes, and he conceived an unspeakable scorn for humanity when he saw Logre and Monsieur Lebigre fixing their eyes on Florent with rapt attention.  Gavard with his revolver irritated him, and Robine, who sat silent behind his glass of beer, seemed to him to be the only sensible person in the company, and one who doubtless judged people by their real value, and was not led away by mere words.  As for Alexandre and Lacaille, they confirmed him in his belief that “the people” were mere fools, and would require at least ten years of revolutionary dictatorship to learn how to conduct themselves.

Logre, however, declared that the sections would soon be completely organised; and Florent began to assign the different parts that each would have to play.  One evening, after a final discussion in which he again got worsted, Charvet rose up, took his hat, and exclaimed:  “Well, I’ll wish you all good night.  You can get your skulls cracked if it amuses you; but I would have you understand that I won’t take any part in the business.  I have never abetted anybody’s ambition.”

Clemence, who had also risen and was putting on her shawl, coldly added:  “The plan’s absurd.”

Then, as Robine sat watching their departure with a gentle glance, Charvet asked him if he were not coming with them; but Robine, having still some beer left in his glass, contented himself with shaking hands.  Charvet and Clemence never returned again; and Lacaille one day informed the company that they now frequented a beer-house in the Rue Serpente.  He had seen them through the window, gesticulating with great energy, in the midst of an attentive group of very young men.

Florent was never able to enlist Claude amongst his supporters.  He had once entertained the idea of gaining him over to his own political views, of making a disciple of him, an assistant in his revolutionary task; and in order to initiate him he had taken him one evening to Monsieur Lebigre’s.  Claude, however, spent the whole time in making a sketch of Robine, in his hat and chestnut cloak, and with his beard resting on the knob of his walking-stick.