On reaching the rue des Poules through the rue des Postes, Theodose
and Dutocq saw a great assemblage of men and women, and by the light
which the wine-merchant's little oil-lamps cast upon these groups,
they were horrified at beholding that mass of red, seamed, haggard
faces; solemn with suffering, withered, distorted, swollen with wine,
pallid from liquor; some threatening, others resigned, some sarcastic
or jeering, others besotted; all rising from the midst of those
terrible rags, which no designer can surpass in his most extravagant
caricatures.

"I shall be recognized," said Theodose, pulling Dutocq away; "we have
done a foolish thing to come here at this hour and take him in the
midst of his business."

"All the more that Claparon may be sleeping in his lair, the interior
of which we know nothing about. Yes, there are dangers for you, but
none for me; I shall be thought to have business with my
copying-clerk, and I'll go and tell him to come and dine with us; this
is court day, so we can't have him to breakfast. I'll tell him to meet
us at the 'Chaumiere' in one of the garden dining-rooms."

"Bad; anybody could listen to us there without being seen," said la
Peyrade. "I prefer the 'Petit Rocher de Cancale'; we can go into a
private room and speak low."

"But suppose you are seen with Cerizet?"

"Well, then, let's go to the 'Cheval Rouge,' quai de la Tournelle."