noise of the great revolution was only wafted on the
southerly breezes from Paris to the little seaport towns of Northern
France, and lost much of its volume and power in this aerial transit:
the fisher folk were too poor to worry about the dethronement of kings:
the struggle for daily existence, the perils and hardships of deep-sea
fishing engrossed all the faculties they possessed.

As for the burghers and merchants of the town, they were at first
content with reading an occasional article in the "Gazette de Paris" or
the "Gazette des Tribunaux," brought hither by one or other of the many
travellers who crossed the city on their way to the harbour. They were
interested in these articles, at times even comfortably horrified at the
doings in Paris, the executions and the tumbrils, but on the whole they
liked the idea that the country was in future to be governed by duly
chosen representatives of the people, rather than be a prey to the
despotism of kings, and they were really quite pleased to see the
tricolour flag hoisted on the old Beffroi, there where the snow-white
standard of the Bourbons had erstwhile flaunted its golden fleur-de-lis
in the glare of the midday sun.

The worthy burgesses of Boulogne were ready to shout: "Vive la
Republique!" with the same cheerful and raucous Normandy accent as they
had lately shouted "Dieu protege le Roi!"

The first awakening from this happy torpor came when that tent was put
up on the landing stage in the harbour. Officials, dressed in shabby
uniforms and wearing tricolour cockades and scarves, were now quartered
in Town Hall, and repaired daily to that roughly erected tent,
accompanied by so many soldiers from the garrison.

There installed, they busied themselves with examining carefully
the passports of all those who desired to leave or enter Boulogne.
Fisher-folk who had dwelt in the city--father and son and grandfather
and many generations before that--and had come and gone in and out of
their own boats as they pleased, were now stopped as they beached their
craft and made to give an account of themselves to these officials from
Paris.

It was, of a truth, more than ridiculous, that these strangers should
ask of Jean-Marie who he was, or of Pierre what was his business, or
of Desire Francois whither he was going, when Jean-Marie and Pierre
and Desire Francois had plied their nets in the roads outside Boulogne
harbour for more years than they would care to count.

It