law is a rebel." Then handing
the paper to the president, he continued: "Add the citizen Barras'
resignation to that of citizens Sieyes and Ducos, and proclaim the fall
of the Directory. I will announce it to my soldiers."

Moulins and Gohier were confounded. Barras' resignation sapped the
foundations of all their plans. Bonaparte had nothing further to do at
the Council of Ancients, but there still remained much to be done in
the court of the Tuileries. He went down, followed by those who had
accompanied him up. His soldiers no sooner caught sight, of him than
they burst into shouts of "Vive Bonaparte!" more noisily and more
eagerly than ever. He sprang into his saddle and made them a sign that
he wished to speak to them. Ten thousand voices that had burst into
cries were hushed in a moment. Silence fell as if by enchantment.

"Soldiers," said Bonaparte, in a voice so loud that all could hear it,
"your comrades in arms on the frontiers are denuded of the necessaries
of life. The people are miserable. The authors of these evils are the
factious men against whom I have assembled you to-day. I hope before
long to lead you to victory; but first we must deprive those who would
stand in the way of public order and general prosperity of their power
to do harm."

Whether it was weariness of the government of the Directory, or the
fascination exercised by the magic being who called them to victory--so
long forgotten in his absence--shouts of enthusiasm arose, and like a
train of burning powder spread from the Tuileries to the Carrousel,
from the Carrousel to the adjacent streets. Bonaparte profited by this
movement. Turning to Moreau, he said:

"General, I will give you proof of the immense confidence I have in you.
Bernadotte, whom I left at my house, and who refused to follow us, had
the audacity to tell me that if he received orders from the Directory he
should execute them against whosoever the agitators might be. General,
I confide to you the guardianship of the Luxembourg. The tranquillity of
Paris and the welfare of the Republic are in your hands."

And without waiting for a reply he put his horse to a gallop, and rode
off to the opposite end of the line.

Moreau, led by military ambition, had consented to play a part in this
great drama; he was now forced to accept that which the author assigned
him. On returning to the Louvre, Gohier and Moulins found nothing
changed apparently. All the sentries were at their pos