An old almond-dealer, a member of the Municipal Council, Monsieur Isidore Granoux, was the head of this group.

His hare-lipped mouth was cloven a little way from the nose; his round eyes, his air of mingled satisfaction and astonishment, made him resemble a fat goose whose digestion is attended by wholesome terror of the cook.
He spoke little, having no command of words; and he only pricked up his ears when anyone accused the Republicans of wishing to pillage the houses of the rich; whereupon he would colour up to such a degree as to make one fear an approaching apoplectic fit, and mutter low imprecations, in which the words "idlers," "scoundrels," "thieves," and "assassins" frequently recurred.
All those who frequented the yellow drawing-room were not, however, as heavy as this fat goose.

A rich landowner, Monsieur Roudier, with a plump, insinuating face, used to discourse there for hours altogether, with all the passion of an Orleanist whose calculations had been upset by the fall of Louis Philippe.

He had formerly been a hosier at Paris, and a purveyor to the Court, but had now retired to Plassans.

He had made his son a magistrate, relying on the Orleanist party to promote him to the highest dignities.