Barabant spent the remainder of the morning in rambling through the markets, skirting the shores of the river, seeking everywhere the thoughts of the people, listening to their ambitions, their desires, and their hopes. Toward noon he drifted among a throng of masons who, dispersing languidly over blocks of stone, were crowding into the nearest café. "Salutations, citoyens!" he cried to them, according to the custom of free greetings that obtained. At the sight of the sling he still wore they hailed him warmly, asking: "You got that at the Tuileries, citoyen?" "Why, I know him," one suddenly exclaimed; and pushing to the front, he cried, "You are the Citoyen Barabant who spoke so well in the Place de la Grève." He turned to his comrades: "Aye, he can talk, too." "Bring him in!" "Citoyen, eat with us." "Yes, join us, comrade," echoed a swarthy Picard, throwing his arms about Barabant, who, nothing loath, answered: "Gladly, citoyens." They took possession of a corner in the café, calling the other occupants--two coal-carriers and a seller of lemonade. While the soup was devoured one or another would turn to Barabant with a wink or a laugh, crying: "It was glorious, eh, the taking of the Tuileries?" "We fought well--the Sans-Culottes." "The fat Louis was trembling that day!" As they fell to eating their long loaves of bread, spread with cheese and washed down with an execrable mixture of wine and water, groups of two or three sauntered in, to smoke and discuss, among whom Barabant recognized the Marseillais who had borne him in the square. Javogues, greeted uproariously, in turn perceived Barabant. "Why, it is my little orator!" he cried, and was advancing with open arms to infold him in a bear-like hug, when his eyes encountered the sling. "Mordieu," he exclaimed, "you were wounded!" "Slightly." Contenting himself with a wring of the hand, Javogues settled his body into a seat opposite, exclaiming: "There is a patriot, citoyens; I'll vouch for him!" A chorus of grunts and a bobbing of heads showed Barabant the value of such an indorsement. Across the table his companions cried to him: "He's a terrible fellow, eh, the Citoyen Javogues? No hesitation about him." "That's the kind of men we want!" They finished eating, and sprawled back to discuss. "What I want to know is, where are we going?" Javogues demanded. "We are going nowhere; we are rooted." "The Convention does nothing but discuss." "What's the use of overturning the throne, after all?" "We must have the Republic!" "What say you, Citoyen Barabant?"