, which,
being a back room and looking out on the courtyard, seemed to offer
more chances of safety than the other. The marshal asked for writing
materials, which Moulin brought, whereupon the marshal sat down at a
little table and began to write.

Just then the cries outside became still more uproarious. M. de
Saint-Chamans had gone out and ordered the crowd to disperse, whereupon
a thousand people had answered him with one voice, asking who he was
that he should give such an order. He announced his rank and authority,
to which the answer was, "We only know the prefect by his clothes." Now
it had unfortunately happened that M. de Chamans having sent his trunks
by diligence they had not yet arrived, and being dressed in a green
coat; nankeen trousers, and a pique vest, it could hardly be
expected that in such a suit he should overawe the people under the
circumstances; so, when he got up on a bench to harangue the populace,
cries arose of "Down with the green coat! We have enough of charlatans
like that!" and he was forced to get down again. As Vernet opened the
door to let him in, several men took advantage of the circumstance to
push in along with him; but Vernet let his fist fall three times, and
three men rolled at his feet like bulls struck by a club. The others
withdrew. A dozen champions such as Vernet would have saved the marshal.
Yet it must not be forgotten that this man was a Royalist, and held the
same opinions as those against whom he fought; for him as for them the
marshal was a mortal enemy, but he had a noble heart, and if the marshal
were guilty he desired a trial and not a murder. Meantime a certain
onlooker had heard what had been said to M. de Chamans about his
unofficial costume, and had gone to put on his uniform. This was M.
de Puy, a handsome and venerable old man, with white hair, pleasant
expression, and winning voice. He soon came back in his mayor's robes,
wearing his scarf and his double cross of St. Louis and the Legion
of Honour. But neither his age nor his dignity made the slightest
impression on these people; they did not even allow him to get back to
the hotel door, but knocked him down and trampled him under foot, so
that he hardly escaped with torn clothes and his white hair covered with
dust and blood. The fury of the mob had now reached its height.

At this juncture the garrison of Avignon came in sight; it was composed
of four hundred volunteers, who formed a battalion known as th