ny."

The women sing the old couplet:

"Bon! Bon! Napoleon
Va rentrer dans sa maison!"

and the soldiers on the ramparts take up the refrain:

"Nous allons voir le grand Napoleon
Le vainqueur de toutes les nations!"

"What can we do, M. le Comte?" says General Marchand at last. "We shall
have to give in."

"I'll not stay and see it," replies the Comte. "I should die of shame."

Even while the two men are talking and discussing the possibilities of
an early surrender, Napoleon himself has forced his way through the
tumultuous throng of his supporters, and accompanied by Victor de
Marmont and Colonel de la Bedoyere he advances as far as the gate which
still stands barred defiantly against him.

"I command you to open this gate!" he cries aloud.

Colonel Roussille, who is in command, replies defiantly: "I only take
orders from the General himself."

"He is relieved of his command," retorts Napoleon.

"I know my duty," insists Roussille. "I only take orders from the
General."

Victor de Marmont, intoxicated with his own enthusiasm, maddened with
rage at sight of St. Genis, whose face is just then thrown into vivid
light by the glare of the torches, cries wildly: "Soldiers of the
Emperor, who are being forced to resist him, turn on those treacherous
officers of yours, tear off their epaulettes, I say!"

His shrill and frantic cries seem to precipitate the inevitable climax.
The tumult has become absolutely delirious. The soldiers on the ramparts
tumble over one another in a mad rush for the gate, which they try to
break open with the butt-end of their rifles; but they dare not actually
attack their own officers, and in any case they know that the keys of
the city are still in the hands of General Marchand, and General
Marchand has suddenly disappeared.

Feeling the hopelessness and futility of further resistance, he has gone
back to his hotel, and is even now giving orders and making preparations
for leaving Grenoble. Prefet Fourier, hastily summoned, is with him, and
the Comte de Cambray is preparing to return immediately to Brestalou.

"We shall all leave for Paris to-morrow, as early as possible," he says,
as he finally takes leave of the General and the prefet, "and take the
money with us, of course. If the King--which God forbid!--is obliged to
leave Paris, it will be most acceptable to him, until the day when the
allies are once more in the field and ready to crush, irretrievably this