When she entered it, she received quite a shock.  The bed, hitherto so spotless, was quite ensanguined by a bundle of long red scarves dangling down to the floor.  On the mantelpiece, between the gilt cardboard boxes and the old pomatum-pots, were several red armlets and clusters of red cockades, looking like pools of blood.  And hanging from every nail and peg against the faded grey wallpaper were pieces of bunting, square flags—­yellow, blue, green, and black—­in which Lisa recognised the distinguishing banners of the twenty sections.  The childish simplicity of the room seemed quite scared by all this revolutionary decoration.  The aspect of guileless stupidity which the shop girl had left behind her, the white innocence of the curtains and furniture, now glared as with the reflection of a fire; while the photograph of Auguste and Augustine looked white with terror.  Lisa walked round the room, examining the flags, the armlets, and the scarves, without touching any of them, as though she feared that the dreadful things might burn her.  She was reflecting that she had not been mistaken, that it was indeed on these and similar things that Florent’s money had been spent.  And to her this seemed an utter abomination, an incredibility which set her whole being surging with indignation.  To think that her money, that money which had been so honestly earned, was being squandered to organise and defray the expenses of an insurrection!

She stood there, gazing at the expanded blossoms of the pomegranate on the balcony—­blossoms which seemed to her like an additional supply of crimson cockades—­and listening to the sharp notes of the chaffinch, which resembled the echo of a distant fusillade.  And then it struck her that the insurrection might break out the next day, or perhaps that very evening.  She fancied she could see the banners streaming in the air and the scarves advancing in line, while a sudden roll of drums broke on her ear.  Then she hastily went downstairs again, without even glancing at the papers which were lying on the table.  She stopped on the first floor, went into her own room, and dressed herself.

In this critical emergency Lisa arranged her hair with scrupulous care and perfect calmness.  She was quite resolute; not a quiver of hesitation disturbed her; but a sterner expression than usual had come into her eyes.  As she fastened her black silk dress, straining the waistband with all the strength of her fingers, she recalled Abbe Roustan’s words; and she questioned herself, and her conscience answered that she was going to fulfil a duty.  By the time she drew her broidered shawl round her broad shoulders, she felt that she was about to perform a deed of high morality.  She put on a pair of dark mauve gloves, secured a thick veil to her bonnet; and before leaving the room she double-locked the secretaire, with a hopeful expression on her face which seemed to say that that much worried piece of furniture would at last be able to sleep in peace again.