ere the proprietress, who thought that she was dead, was very glad to
see her.

A short time afterward, a patriot who had no prejudices, who liked her
because of her bold deed, and who afterward loved her for herself,
married her, and made a lady of her.

[1] Count.

AN AFFAIR OF STATE.

Paris had just heard of the disaster of Sedan. The Republic was
proclaimed. All France was panting from a madness that lasted until the
time of the Commonwealth. Everybody was playing at soldier from one end
of the country to the other.

Capmakers became colonels, assuming the duties of generals; revolvers
and daggers were displayed on large rotund bodies, enveloped in red
sashes; common citizens turned warriors, commanding battalions of noisy
volunteers, and swearing like troopers to emphasize their importance.

The very fact of bearing arms and handling guns with a system excited a
people who hitherto had only handled scales and measures, and made them
formidable to the first comer, without reason. They even executed a few
innocent people to prove that they knew how to kill; and, in roaming
through virgin fields still belonging to the Prussians, they shot stray
dogs, cows chewing the cud in peace, or sick horses put out to pasture.
Each believed himself called upon to play a great role in military
affairs. The cafes of the smallest villages, full of tradesmen in
uniform, resembled barracks or field hospitals.

Now, the town of Canneville did not yet know the exciting news of the
army and the Capital. It had, however, been greatly agitated for a
month over an encounter between the rival political parties. The mayor,
Viscount de Varnetot, a small, thin man, already old, remained true to
the Empire, especially since he saw rising up against him a powerful
adversary, in the great, sanguine form of Doctor Massarel, head of the
Republican party in the district, venerable chief of the Masonic lodge,
president of the Society of Agriculture and of the Fire Department, and
organizer of the rural militia designed to save the country.

In two weeks he had induced sixty-three men to volunteer in defense of
their country--married men, fathers of families, prudent farmers and
merchants of the town. These he drilled every morning in front of the
mayor's window.

Whenever the mayor happened to appear, Commander Massarel, covered with
pistols, passing proudly up and down in front of his troops, would make
them shout, "Long live our count