Thus wandering, Olivier found himself back again in the Rue du Rocher, in front of his lodgings, though he could not tell by what way he had come. Going up to his room, he locked himself in to rest a while. His head swam, and he realised for the first time that he had eaten nothing since the previous day, so he called down to ask if he could have something to eat. As it was just breakfast-time they sent up some eggs, a cutlet, and some fruit. He ate the eggs, tasted the cutlet, but did not finish it. Then, as a reaction set in, he sunk into an armchair and slept. When Olivier awoke it was four o'clock. He started up quickly, vexed at having lost his day, and hurried downstairs. On the ground floor the concierge stopped him. "I want a word with you," he said. "You are really the citoyen Germain, are you not?" "Yes," answered Olivier, already apprehensive, and wondering what was coming. "Well, I was going to say you haven't shown me your passport. I didn't ask you last night, as it was so late." "But I have not any," said Olivier, taken back. Then, on second thoughts, he added-- "That is to say, I left it in the country." "You can easily procure one at the police section. It is indispensable. We cannot keep you here without it. That is the law now." "I know," said Olivier, forcing a smile, "Well, to-morrow I will put everything right, for to-day I have so much to do." "To-morrow is _décadi_," the concierge remarked, "and it would be difficult for you." "Then the day after to-morrow?" "Very well," said the concierge, "but don't fail, for I am responsible, you know." Olivier thanked him and hastened away. He had not reckoned on such a complication. If he could only see his mother and his _fiancée_, what mattered anything else? He retraced his steps towards the prison, this time taking the Rue de l'Arcade, and finding himself suddenly opposite the Madeleine, he turned into the Rue da la Révolution. There he noticed an unusual stir, which increased as he neared the Place de la Révolution. The streets appeared very gay, gayer than those he had just left. On looking up he saw that the houses were decorated with tricolour scarves and flags, and that men perched on ladders were hanging garlands and foliage over the shop windows. At the entrance of the Place masts were being erected by a continuous stream of journeymen and workmen, with whom were mixed an increasing crowd of onlookers. Olivier thought of the previous day's _fête_, and of the platforms he had helped to construct. "So the Paris Democratic Society are having their _fête_ also," he said to himself. On questioning a passer-by he was told that preparations were being made for a festival in honour of the Supreme Being, which was to take place the next day on the Place de la Révolution. Olivier had forgotten this in the confusion of his mind, though he had heard it spoken of among his comrades at the workshop.