previous acquaintance, a noteworthy sign of public anxiety; and groups
talked in loud voices at the corners of the streets. The shops were
being shut.

"Come, this looks better," cried Charamaule.

He had been wandering about the town since the morning, and he had
noticed with sadness the apathy of the masses.

We found the two majors at home upon whom Colonel Forestier counted.
They were two rich linendrapers, who received us with some
embarrassment. The shopmen had gathered together at the windows, and
watched us pass by. It was mere curiosity.

In the meanwhile one of the two majors countermanded a journey which he
was going to undertake on that day, and promised us his co-operation.

"But," added he, "do not deceive yourselves, one can foresee that we
shall be cut to pieces. Few men will march out."

Colonel Forestier said to us, "Watrin, the present colonel of the 6th,
does not care for fighting; perhaps he will resign me the command
amicably. I will go and find him alone, so as to startle him the less,
and will join you at Bonvalet's."

Near the Porte St. Martin we left our carriage, and Charamaule and
myself proceeded along the boulevard on foot, in order to observe the
groups more closely, and more easily to judge the aspect of the crowd.

The recent levelling of the road had converted the boulevard of the
Porte St. Martin into a deep cutting, commanded by two embankments. On
the summits of these embankments were the footways, furnished with
railings. The carriages drove along the cutting, the foot passengers
walked along the footways.

Just as we reached the boulevard, a long column of infantry filed into
this ravine with drummers at their head. The thick waves of bayonets
filled the square of St. Martin, and lost themselves in the depths of
the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle.

An enormous and compact crowd covered the two pavements of the Boulevard
St. Martin. Large numbers of workmen, in their blouses, were there,
leaning upon the railings.

At the moment when the head of the column entered the defile before the
Theatre of the Porte St. Martin a tremendous shout of "Vive la
Republique!" came forth from every mouth as though shouted by one man.
The soldiers continued to advance in silence, but it might have been
said that their pace slackened, and many of them regarded the crowd with
an air of indecision. What did this cry of "Vive la Republique!" mean?
Was it a token of applause? Was it a shout of defi