mbers," he answered.

"Oh," she said, "is that it?"

But she knew no more now than she had known before. Presently her
curiosity again got the better of her timidity.

"Where are they going, monsieur?"

"They don't know, mademoiselle. Palais Bourbon, Place de la
Concorde,--anywhere it happens to be lively enough to suit. But where
have you been, mademoiselle, to not know,--in the country?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"And where are you going?"

"Place de la Concorde."

"Don't do it, little one,--don't you do it! It is not a place for a
mite like you on such a day. Take my advice,--go anywhere else."

"I'm going to the Place de la Concorde, monsieur," she responded,
quite stiffly.

When she reached the great plaza, however, she found it practically
deserted. The usual throngs of carriages were passing to and fro.
Immense black crowds blocked the Rue Royale at the Madeleine and in
the opposite direction in the vicinity of the Palais Bourbon across
the river. These crowds appeared to be held at bay by the cordons of
police agents, who kept the Place de la Concorde clear and pedestrians
moving lively in the intersecting streets.

Fouchette hopped nimbly off the steps of the omnibus she had taken at
le Chatelet, to the amusement of a gang of hilarious students from the
Latin Quarter, who recognized in her the "tenderfoot."

The Parisienne always leaves the omnibus steps with her back to the
horses. This keeps American visitors standing around looking for a
mishap which never happens; for the Parisienne is an expert
equilibrist and can perform this feat while the vehicle is at full
speed, not only with safety but with an airy grace that is often
charming.

But Fouchette did not mind the laughter; she had found a good place
from which to view whatever was to be seen. She did not have to wait
long.

"A bas le sabre!" shouted a man.

"A bas les traitres!" yelled the students in unison.

One of the latter leaped at the man and felled him with a blow.

The frantic crowd of young men attempted to jump upon this victim of
public opinion, but as others rushed at the same time to his rescue,
all came together in a tumultuous, struggling heap.

The angry combatants surged this way and that,--the score soon became
an hundred, the hundred became a thousand. It was a mystery whence
these turbulent elements sprang, so quickly did the mob gather
strength.

The original offender got away in the confusion. But the struggle we