I did so, through a press of noisy people, who thronged the stairs and passages and lobbies, and talked, and gesticulated, and seemed to be settled there for the day. I worked my way through these at last, the door was opened, a fresh gust of noise came out to meet me, and I entered the room. In it, seated round a long table, I found a score of men, of whom some rose to meet me, while more kept their seats; three or four were speaking at once and did not stop on my entrance. I recognised at the farther end Father Benôit and Buton, who came to meet me, and Capitaine Hugues, who rose, but continued to speak. Besides these there were two of the smaller noblesse, who left their chairs, and came to me in an ecstasy, and Doury, who rose and sat down half a dozen times; and one or two Curés and others of that rank, known to me by sight. The uproar was great, the confusion equal to it. Still, somehow, and after a moment of tumult, I found myself received and welcomed and placed in a chair at the end of the table, with M. le Capitaine on one side of me and a notary of Cahors on the other. Then, under cover of the noise, I stole a few words with Father Benôit, who lingered a moment beside me. "You could not join us yesterday?" he muttered, with a pathetic look that only I understood. "But you left a message, bidding me wait for you!" I answered. "I did?" he said. "No; I left a message asking you to follow us--if it pleased you." "Then I never got it," I replied. "André told me----" "Ah! André," he answered softly. And he shook his head. "The rascal!" I said; "then he lied to me! And----" But some one called the Curé to his place, and we had to part. At the same instant most of the talkers ceased; a moment, and only two were left speaking, who, without paying the least regard to one another, continued to hold forth to their neighbours, haranguing, one on the social contract; the other on the brigands--the brigands who were everywhere burning the corn and killing the people! At last M. le Capitaine, after long waiting to speak, attacked the former speaker. "Tut, Monsieur!" he said. "This is not the time for theory. A halfpennyworth of fact---- "Is worth a pound of theory!" the man of the brigands--he was a grocer, I believe--cried eagerly; and he brought his fist down on the table. "But now is the time!--the God-sent time, to frame the facts to the theory!" the other combatant screamed. "To form a perfect system! To regenerate the world, I say! To----" "To regenerate the fiddlestick!" his opponent answered, with equal heat. "When brigands are at our very doors! when our crops are being burned and our houses plundered! when----" "Monsieur," the Captain said harshly, commanding silence by the gravity of his tone--"if you please!" "Yes." "Then, to be plain, I do not believe any more in your brigands than in M. l'Avoué's theories."