ared.

"Farewell, Beauchamp!" he exclaimed, "I've not a moment to lose! A
post-chaise is at the door! Farewell!"

"Off!" cried the journalist, in astonishment. "And whither--and why?"

"Yes, off for England--Italy--America--anywhere but France!" exclaimed
the young noble.

"And why?"

"Why?" cried the indignant Deputy. "Look around you and then ask what
there is left in France for me! Beauchamp," continued the young man
hurriedly and in low tones, "France will have no King at this hour
to-morrow! Mark the prophecy! The National Guard fraternizes with the
populace; the Line fraternizes with the Guard. The Government is, of
course, paralyzed. All is over; six hours hence the Tuileries will be
ransacked by a drunken mob!--Farewell!"

"One moment! Why do you leave in this way? Why do you not go to Boulogne
by the cars?"

"And do you not know--you, a journalist--that for three leagues around,
in every direction, every railway radiating from Paris has been torn up?
Do you not know that every public conveyance, even to the Mail
Diligences, has been stopped, and that all the telegraph stations have
been dismantled--all to prevent the further concentration of troops in
Paris by the Government?"

"I did hear of this, indeed," said Beauchamp.

"At dawn I was at the railway depot, having late last night, with
extreme difficulty, procured a passport. And whom think you, among
crowds of others, I encountered there? You would never guess, and I
haven't time for you to try. Lucien Debray, and with him--but that's
impossible for you to divine--she who was Madame Danglars, wife of the
rich banker years ago. Well, the banker is dead and she is immensely
rich, and I suppose Lucien's spouse into the bargain."

"And where go they?"

"Oh! to England of course--that grand reservoir of all emigrant
royalists, that asylum for all who love kings! But farewell, farewell!
If I am not off soon I may have to go without my head! And if you are
not massacred by your detestable party, I hope to hear of you yet as a
Cabinet Minister. Despite your abominable principles, you have my best
wishes! Farewell!"

And with a hearty shake of Beauchamp's hand, the young noble was off for
an atmosphere more congenial to monarchists than was that of Paris.

Nor was he alone. Thousands fled from Paris in like manner that same
day, and the only cry that followed them was this:

"Let them go! Let them go!"

The streets of Paris were now choked with b