It was about ten o'clock in the evening when the deputies returned home. Nicholas Poulain remained behind the others, reflecting on the perplexing situation in which he found himself, and considering whether he should report all that he had heard to M. d'Epernon, when, in the middle of the Rue de la Pierre-au-Real, he ran right against a Jacobin monk. They both began to swear, but, looking up, recognized each other.
"Brother Borromee!" cried Poulain.
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