On the evening of the same day he was sitting in some disreputable tavern of the old quarter with a few friends, when a comrade came to inform him that the insurgents were only a few miles from Plassans.  This news had just been brought by an express, who had succeeded in making his way into the town, and had been charged to get the gates opened for the column.  There was an outburst of triumph.  Macquart, especially, appeared to be delirious with enthusiasm.  The unforeseen arrival of the insurgents seemed to him a delicate attention of Providence for his own particular benefit.  His hands trembled at the idea that he would soon hold the Rougons by the throat.

He hastily quitted the tavern with his friends.  All the Republicans who had not yet left the town were soon assembled on the Cours Sauvaire.  It was this band that Rougon had perceived as he was hastening to conceal himself in his mother’s house.  When the band had reached the top of the Rue de la Banne, Macquart, who had stationed himself at the rear, detained four of his companions, big fellows who were not over-burdened with brains and whom he swayed by his tavern bluster.  He easily persuaded them that the enemies of the Republic must be arrested immediately if they wished to prevent the greatest calamities.  The truth was that he feared Pierre might escape him in the midst of the confusion which the entry of the insurgents would produce.  However, the four big fellows followed him with exemplary docility, and knocked violently at the door of the Rougons’ abode.  In this critical situation Felicite displayed admirable courage.  She went down and opened the street door herself.

“We want to go upstairs into your rooms,” Macquart said to her brutally.

“Very well, gentlemen, walk up,” she replied with ironical politeness, pretending that she did not recognise her brother-in-law.

Once upstairs, Macquart ordered her to fetch her husband.

“My husband is not here,” she said with perfect calmness; “he is travelling on business.  He took the diligence for Marseilles at six o’clock this evening.”

Antoine at this declaration, which Felicite uttered in a clear voice, made a gesture of rage.  He rushed through the drawing-room, and then into the bedroom, turned the bed up, looked behind the curtains and under the furniture.  The four big fellows assisted him.  They searched the place for a quarter of an hour.  Felicite meantime quietly seated herself on the drawing-room sofa, and began to fasten the strings of her petticoats, like a person who has been surprised in her sleep and has not had time to dress properly.

“It’s true then, he’s run away, the coward!” Macquart muttered on returning to the drawing-room.

Nevertheless, he continued to look about him with a suspicious air.  He felt a presentiment that Pierre could not have given up the game at the decisive moment.  At last he approached Felicite, who was yawning:  “Show us the place where your husband is hidden,” he said to her, “and I promise no harm shall be done to him.”