“Where?” The Chink got up, flashing a glance at Andrews out of the corners of his slit-like eyes. “Outside, in the streets, in Paris, anywhere where people are out in the open and can do things. What do you think about the revolution?” The Chink shrugged his shoulders. “Anything's possible,” he said. “D'you think they really can overthrow the army and the government in one day, like that?” “Who?” broke in Chrisfield. “Why, the people, Chris, the ordinary people like you and me, who are tired of being ordered round, who are tired of being trampled down by other people just like them, who've had the luck to get in right with the system.” “D'you know what I'll do when the revolution comes?” broke in the Chink with sudden intensity, slapping himself on the chest with one hand. “I'll go straight to one of those jewelry stores, rue Royale, and fill my pockets and come home with my hands full of diamonds.” “What good'll that do you?” “What good? I'll bury them back there in the court and wait. I'll need them in the end. D'you know what it'll mean, your revolution? Another system! When there's a system there are always men to be bought with diamonds. That's what the world's like.” “But they won't be worth anything. It'll only be work that is worth anything.” “We'll see,” said the Chink. “D'you think it could happen, Andy, that there'd be a revolution, an' there wouldn't be any more armies, an' we'd be able to go round like we are civilians? Ah doan think so. Fellers like us ain't got it in 'em to buck the system, Andy.” “Many a system's gone down before; it will happen again.” “They're fighting the Garde Republicaine now before the Gare de l'Est,” said the Chink in an expressionless voice. “What do you want down here? You'd better stay in the back. You never know what the police may put over on us.” “Give us two bottles of vin blank, Chink,” said Chrisfield. “When'll you pay?” “Right now. This guy's given me fifty francs.” “Rich, are you?” said the Chink with hatred in his voice, turning to Andrews. “Won't last long at that rate. Wait here.” He strode into the bar, closing the door carefully after him. A sudden jangling of the bell was followed by a sound of loud voices and stamping feet. Andrews and Chrisfield tiptoed into the dark corridor, where they stood a long time, waiting, breathing the foul air that stung their nostrils with the stench of plaster-damp and rotting wine. At last the Chink came back with three bottles of wine. “Well, you're right,” he said to Andrews. “They are putting up barricades on the Avenue Magenta.” On the stairs they met a girl sweeping. She had untidy hair that straggled out from under a blue handkerchief tied under her chin, and a pretty-colored fleshy face. Chrisfield caught her up to him and kissed her, as he passed. “We all calls her the dawg-faced girl,” he said to Andrews in explanation. “She does our work. Ah like to had a fight with Slippery over her yisterday.... Didn't Ah, Slippery?”