'Forward! March!' says.'
'You know many of Hardy's workmen?'
'Oh! that's why you have brought me down here?'
'Yes—you will meet with many of the workmen from the factory.'
'Men from Hardy's take part in a row? No, no; they are too well off for that. You have been sold.'
'You will see presently.'
'I tell you they are well off. What have they to complain of?'
'What of their brethren—those who have not so good a master, and die of hunger and misery, and call on them for assistance? Do you think they will remain deaf to such a summons? Hardy is only an exception. Let the people but give a good pull all together, and the exception will become the rule, and all the world be happy.'
'What you say there is true, but it would be a devil of a pull that would make an honest man out of my old master, Baron Tripeaud, who made me what I am—an out-and-out rip.'
'Hardy's workmen are coming; you are their comrade, and have no interest in deceiving them. They will believe you. Join with me in persuading them—'
'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.'
'Well! why do you hesitate?'
'First of all, nothing proves that these societies are ready to make a movement.'
'I tell you they are.'
'He—tells you—they are,' said Sleepinbuff, stammering 'and I (hic!) affirm it. Forward! March!'
'That's not enough,' replied Olivier. 'Besides, we have reflected upon it. For a week the factory was divided. Even yesterday the discussion was too warm to be pleasant. But this morning Father Simon called to him; we explained ourselves fully before him, and he brought us all to one mind. We mean to wait, and if any disturbance breaks out, we shall see.'
'Is that your final word?'
'It is our last word.'
'Silence!' cried Sleepinbuff, suddenly, as he listened, balancing himself on his tottering legs. 'It is like the noise of a crowd not far off.' A dull sound was indeed audible, which became every moment more and more distinct, and at length grew formidable.
'What is that?' said Olivier, in surprise.
'Now,' replied Morok, smiling with a sinister air, 'I remember the host told me there was a great ferment in the village against the factory. If you and your other comrades had separated from Hardy's other workmen, as I hoped, these people who are beginning to howl would have been for you, instead of against you.'
'This was a trap, then, to set one half of M. Hardy's workmen against the other!' cried Olivier; 'you hoped that we should make common cause with these people against the factory, and that—'
The young man had not time to finish. A terrible outburst of shouts, howls, and hisses shook the tavern. At the same instant the door was abruptly opened, and the host, pale and trembling, hurried into the chamber, exclaiming: 'Gentlemen! do any of you work at M. Hardy's factory?'
'I do,' said Olivier.
'Then you are lost. Here are the Wolves in a body, saying there are Devourers here from M. Hardy's, and offering them battle—unless the Devourers will give up the factory, and range themselves on their side.'
'It was a trap, there can be no doubt of it!' cried Olivier, looking at Morok and Sleepinbuff, with a threatening air; 'if my mates had come, we were all to be let in.'
'I lay a trap, Olivier?' stammered Jacques Rennepont. 'Never!'
'Battle to the Devourers! or let them join the Wolves!' cried the angry crowd with one voice, as they appeared to invade the house.
'Come!' exclaimed the host. Without giving Olivier time to answer, he seized him by the arm, and opening a window which led to a roof at no very great height from the ground, he said to him: 'Make your escape by this window, let yourself slide down, and gain the fields; it is time.'
As the young workman hesitated, the host added, with a look of terror:
'Alone, against a couple of hundred, what can you do? A minute more, and you are lost. Do you not hear them? They have entered the yard; they are coming up.'
Indeed, at this moment, the groans, the hisses, and cheers redoubled in violence; the wooden staircase which led to the first story shook beneath the quick steps of many persons, and the shout arose, loud and piercing: 'Battle to the Devourers!'
'Fly, Olivier!' cried Sleepinbuff, almost sobered by the danger.
Hardly had he pronounced the words when the door of the large room, which communicated with the small one in which they were, was burst open with a frightful crash.
'Here they are!' cried the host, clasping his hands in alarm. Then, running to Olivier, he pushed him, as it were, out of the window; for, with one foot on the sill, the workman still hesitated.
