Then she again buried her face in her hands, placed her folded arms on her child, and once more began to sob. The woman who was there came up to me, and without saying a word, wiped my mouth with a handkerchief. I had blood upon my lips. What could be done? Alas! We went out overwhelmed. It was quite dark. Bancel and Versigny left me. [26] "Les Châtiments." CHAPTER II. WHAT HAPPENED DURING THE NIGHT--THE MARKET QUARTER I came back to my lodging, 19, Rue Richelieu. The massacre seemed to be at an end; the fusillades were heard no longer. As I was about to knock at the door I hesitated for a moment; a man was there who seemed to be waiting. I went straight up to this man, and I said to him,-- "You seem to be waiting for somebody?" He answered,-- "Yes." "For whom?" "For you." And he added, lowering his voice, "I have come to speak to you." I looked at this man. A street-lamp shone on him. He did not avoid the light. He was a young man with a fair beard, wearing a blue blouse, and who had the gentle bearing of a thinker and the robust hands of a workman. "Who are you?" I asked him. He answered,--"I belong to the Society of the Last-makers. I know you very well, Citizen Victor Hugo." "From whom do you come?" I resumed. He answered still in a whisper,-- "From Citizen King." "Very good," said I. He then told me his name. As he has survived the events of the night of the 4th, and as he since escaped the denunciations, it can be understood that we will not mention his name here, and that we shall confine ourselves to terming him throughout the course of this story by his trade, calling him the "last-maker."[27] "What do you want to say to me?" I asked him. He explained that matters were not hopeless, that he and his friends meant to continue the resistance, that the meeting-places of the Societies had not yet been settled, but that they would be during the evening, that my presence was desired, and that if I would be under the Colbert Arcade at nine o'clock, either himself or another of their men would be there, and would serve me as guide. We decided that in order to make himself known, the messenger, when accosting me, should give the password, "What is Joseph doing?" I do not know whether he thought he noticed any doubt or mistrust on my part. He suddenly interrupted himself, and said,-- "After all, you are not bound to believe me. One does not think of everything: I ought to have asked them to give me a word in writing. At a time like this one distrusts everybody." "On the contrary," I said to him, "one trusts everybody. I will be in the Colbert Arcade at nine o'clock." And I left him.