And in order to justify a trip so at variance with his policy of ignoring his son, he remembered that the carpenter lived in the same street.
"I must hunt up Robert.

He promised a week ago that he would come here." This Robert was a husky young fellow who, to use his own words, was "emancipated from boss tyranny," and was working independently in his own home.

A tiny, almost subterranean room was serving him for dwelling and workshop.

A woman he called "my affinity" was looking carefully after his hearth and home, with a baby boy clinging to her skirts.
Desnoyers was accustomed to humor Robert's tirades against his fellow citizens because the man had always humored his whimseys about the incessant rearrangement of his furniture.

In the luxurious apartment in the avenue Victor Hugo the carpenter would sing La Internacional while using hammer and saw, and his employer would overlook his audacity of speech because of the cheapness of his work.
Upon arriving at the shop he found the man with cap over one ear, broad trousers like a mameluke's, hobnailed boots and various pennants and rosettes fastened to the lapels of his jacket.
"You've come too late, Boss," he said cheerily.