Lenoir, having spoken at such length, had now become silent, but everyone else talked, and drank brandy, and hugged his own hate and likely triumph.
For several hours, far into the night, the sitting was continued.

Each one of the score of members had some comment to make on Lenoir's speech, some suggestion to offer.
Lenoir himself was the first to break up this weird gathering of human jackals, already exulting over their prey.

He bad his companions a quiet good-night, then passed out into the dark street.
After he had gone there were a few seconds of complete silence in the dark and sordid room, where men's ugliest passions were holding absolute sway.

The giant's heavy footsteps echoed along the ill-paved street, and gradually died away in the distance.
Then at last Foucquier-Tinville, the Public Prosecutor, spoke: "And who is that man ?" he asked, addressing the assembly of patriots.
Most of them did not know.
"A provincial from the north," said one of the men at last; "he has been here several times before now, and last year he was a fairly constant attendant.

I believe he is a butcher by trade, and I fancy he comes from Calais.