"Run quickly to the druggist and ask him to lend me a towel and a
stick."

The lieutenant hastened.

He would make a flag of truce, a white flag, at the sight of which the
royalist heart of the mayor would perhaps rejoice.

Pommel returned with the cloth and a broom-stick. With some twine they
completed the flag, and M. Massarel, grasping it in both hands and
holding it in front of him, again advanced in the direction of the
town-hall. When he was opposite the door, he once more called: "Monsieur
de Varnetot!" The door suddenly opened and M. de Varnetot and his three
guards appeared on the threshold.

Instinctively the doctor stepped back; then he bowed courteously to his
enemy, and, choking with emotion, he announced: "I have come, monsieur,
to make you acquainted with the orders which I have received."

The nobleman, without returning the bow, answered: "I resign, monsieur,
but understand that it is neither through fear of, nor obedience to, the
odious government which has usurped the power." And, emphasizing every
word, he declared: "I do not wish to appear, for a single day, to serve
the Republic. That's all."

Massarel, stunned, answered nothing; and M. de Varnetot, walking
quickly, disappeared around the corner of the square, still followed by
his escort.

The doctor, puffed up with pride, returned to the crowd. As soon as
he was near enough to make himself heard, he cried: "Hurrah! hurrah!
Victory crowns the Republic everywhere."

There was no outburst of joy.

The doctor continued: "We are free, you are free, independent! Be
proud!"

The motionless villagers were looking at him without any signs of
triumph shining in their eyes.

He looked at them, indignant at their indifference, thinking of what he
could say or do in order to make an impression to electrify this calm
peasantry, to fulfill his mission as a leader.

He had an inspiration and, turning to Pommel, he ordered: "Lieutenant,
go get me the bust of the ex-emperor which is in the meeting room of the
municipal council, and bring it here with a chair."

The man presently reappeared, carrying on his right shoulder the plaster
Bonaparte, and holding in his left hand a cane-seated chair.

M. Massarel went towards him, took the chair, placed the white bust on
it, then stepping back a few steps, he addressed it in a loud voice:

"Tyrant, tyrant, you have fallen down in the mud. The dying fatherland
was in its death throes under your oppressi