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The dawn was now fast rising, and Pierre proceeded to the Rue de la Banne, tapping his heels in a martial manner on the still deserted pavement. He carried his hat in his hand in spite of the bitter cold; for puffs of pride sent all his blood to his head. On reaching his house he found Cassoute at the bottom of the stairs. The navvy had not stirred, for he had seen nobody enter.
He then had to leave the yellow drawing-room, after shaking his fist at his sister-in-law, calling her an old jade, and threatening that he would soon return. At the foot of the staircase, he took one of the men who accompanied him, a navvy named Cassoute, the most wooden-headed of the four, and ordered him to sit on the first step, and remain there.
Cassoute rose and took himself off, with an awkward bow. He was going to get himself arrested like a lamb, to the great delight of Pierre, who laughed as he went upstairs, asking himself, with a feeling of vague surprise: "I have certainly plenty of courage; shall I turn out as good a diplomatist?" Felicite had not gone to bed last night.
One of the writers was commencing, in an emphatic voice, "Inhabitants of Plassans, the hour of independence has struck, the reign of justice has begun " when a noise was heard at the door of the office, which was slowly pushed open. "Is it you, Cassoute?" Macquart asked, interrupting the perusal. Nobody answered; but the door opened wider. "Come in, do!" he continued, impatiently.
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