The idea of a struggle intoxicated him afresh.

He dreamed of victory to be followed by a happy life with Miette, amidst the peacefulness of the universal Republic.
[*] The _farandole_ is the popular dance of Provence.
The fraternal reception accorded them by the inhabitants of Orcheres proved to be the insurgents' last delight.

They spent the day amidst radiant confidence and boundless hope.

The prisoners, Commander Sicardot, Messieurs Garconnet, Peirotte and the others, who had been shut up in one of the rooms at the mayor's, the windows of which overlooked the Grand' Place, watched the _farandoles_ and wild outbursts of enthusiasm with surprise and dismay.
"The villains!" muttered the Commander, leaning upon a window-bar, as though bending over the velvet-covered hand-rest of a box at a theatre: "To think that there isn't a battery or two to make a clean sweep of all that rabble!" Then he perceived Miette, and addressing himself to Monsieur Garconnet, he added: "Do you see, sir, that big girl in red over yonder?
How disgraceful! They've even brought their mistresses with them.

If this continues much longer we shall see some fine goings-on." Monsieur Garconnet shook his head, saying something about "unbridled passions," and "the most evil days of history." Monsieur Peirotte, as white as a sheet, remained silent; he only opened his lips once, to say to Sicardot, who was still bitterly railing: "Not so loud, sir; not so loud! You will get us all massacred." As a matter of fact, the insurgents treated the gentlemen with the greatest kindness.