in
the galleys. To merit fetters is to wear them. Look at that man who is
at your head, and who dares to command you. You take him for a general,
he is a convict."

The soldiers seemed petrified.

Some one who was there (I thank his generous, devoted spirit) touched my
arm, and whispered in my ear, "You will get yourself shot."

But I did not heed, and I listened to nothing. I continued, still waving
my sash,--"You, who are there, dressed up like a general, it is you to
whom I speak, sir. You know who I am, I am a Representative of the
People, and I know who you are. I have told you you are a criminal.
Now, do you wish to know my name? This is it."

And I called out my name to him.

And I added,--

"Now tell me yours."

He did not answer.

I continued,--

"Very well, I do not want to know your name as a general, I shall know
your number as a galley slave."

The man in the general's uniform hung his head, the others were silent.
I could read all their looks, however, although they did not raise their
eyes. I saw them cast down, and I felt that they were furious. I had an
overwhelming contempt for them, and I passed on.

What was the name of this general? I did not know then, and I do not
know now.

One of the apologies for the _coup d'etat_ in relating this incident,
and characterizing it as "an insensate and culpable provocation," states
that "the moderation shown by the military leaders on this occasion did
honor to General ----:" We leave to the author of this panegyric the
responsibility of that name and of this eulogium.

I entered the Rue de Faubourg St. Antoine.

My driver, who now knew my name, hesitated no longer, and whipped up his
horse. These Paris coachmen are a brave and intelligent race.

As I passed the first shops of the main street nine o'clock sounded from
the Church St. Paul.

"Good," I said to myself, "I am in time."

The Faubourg presented an extraordinary aspect. The entrance was
guarded, but not closed, by two companies of infantry. Two other
companies were drawn up in echelons farther on, at short distances,
occupying the street, but leaving a free passage. The shops, which were
open at the end of the Faubourg, were half closed a hundred yards
farther up. The inhabitants, amongst whom I noticed numerous workmen in
blouses, were talking together at their doors, and watching the
proceedings. I noticed at each step the placards of the _coup d'etat_
untouched.

Beyond the fo