The young man was at first disposed to doubt it, but his uncle gave precise details; he spoke of lists that had been drawn up, he mentioned the persons whose names were on these lists, he indicated in what manner, at what hour, and under what circumstances the plot would be carried into effect.  Silvere gradually allowed himself to be taken in by this old woman’s tale, and was soon raving against the enemies of the Republic.

“It’s they that we shall have to reduce to impotence if they persist in betraying the country!” he cried.  “And what do they intend to do with the citizens whom they arrest?”

“What do they intend to do with them?  Why, they will shoot them in the lowest dungeons of the prison, of course,” replied Macquart, with a hoarse laugh.  And as the young man, stupefied with horror, looked at him without knowing what to say:  “This will not be the first lot to be assassinated there,” he continued.  “You need only go and prowl about the Palais de Justice of an evening to hear the shots and groans.”

“Oh, the wretches!” Silvere murmured.

Thereupon uncle and nephew launched out into high politics.  Fine and Gervaise, on finding them hotly debating things, quietly went to bed without attracting their attention.  Then the two men remained together till midnight, commenting on the news from Paris and discussing the approaching and inevitable struggle.  Macquart bitterly denounced the men of his own party, Silvere dreamed his dream of ideal liberty aloud, and for himself only.  Strange conversations these were, during which the uncle poured out many a little nip for himself, and from which the nephew emerged quite intoxicated with enthusiasm.  Antoine, however, never succeeded in obtaining from the young Republican any perfidious suggestion or play of warfare against the Rougons.  In vain he tried to goad him on; he seldom heard him suggest aught but an appeal to eternal justice, which sooner or later would punish the evil-doers.

The ingenuous youth did indeed speak warmly of taking up arms and massacring the enemies of the Republic; but, as soon as these enemies strayed out of his dream or became personified in his uncle Pierre or any other person of his acquaintance, he relied upon heaven to spare him the horror of shedding blood.  It is very probable that he would have ceased visiting Macquart, whose jealous fury made him so uncomfortable, if he had not tasted the pleasure of being able to speak freely of his dear Republic there.  In the end, however, his uncle exercised decisive influence over his destiny; he irritated his nerves by his everlasting diatribes, and succeeded in making him eager for an armed struggle, the conquest of universal happiness by violence.

When Silvere reached his sixteenth year, Macquart had him admitted into the secret society of the Montagnards, a powerful association whose influence extended throughout Southern France.  From that moment the young Republican gazed with longing eyes at the smuggler’s carbine, which Adelaide had hung over her chimney-piece.  Once night, while his grandmother was asleep, he cleaned and put it in proper condition.  Then he replaced it on its nail and waited, indulging in brilliant reveries, fancying gigantic epics, Homeric struggles, and knightly tournaments, whence the defenders of liberty would emerge victorious and acclaimed by the whole world.