rrived, the sailors had been the pets of the capital. They
soon proved themselves the most notable contrast to that force which
Paris herself had produced--the National Guard. Their frames were hardy,
their habits active, their discipline perfect, their manners mild
and polite. "Oh, if all our troops were like these!" was the common
exclamation of the Parisians.

At last burst forth upon Paris the proclamations of General Trochu and
General Ducrot; the first brief, calm, and Breton-like, ending with
"Putting our trust in God. March on for our country:" the second more
detailed, more candidly stating obstacles and difficulties, but fiery
with eloquent enthusiasm, not unsupported by military statistics, in
the 400 cannon, two-thirds of which were of the largest calibre, that
no material object could resist; more than 150,000 soldiers, all well
armed, well equipped, abundantly provided with munitions, and all (j'en
a l'espoir) animated by an irresistible ardour. "For me," concludes the
General, "I am resolved. I swear before you, before the whole nation,
that I will not re-enter Paris except as dead or victorious."

At these proclamations, who then at Paris does not recall the burst of
enthusiasm that stirred the surface? Trochu became once more popular;
even the Communistic or atheistic journals refrained from complaining
that he attended mass, and invited his countrymen to trust in God.
Ducrot was more than popular--he was adored.

The several companies in which De Mauleon and Enguerrand served departed
towards their post early on the same morning, that of the 28th. All the
previous night, while Enguerrand was buried in profound slumber, Raoul
remained in his brother's room; sometimes on his knees before the
ivory crucifix which had been their mother's last birthday gift to her
youngest son--sometimes seated beside the bed in profound and devout
meditation. At daybreak, Madame de Vandemar stole into the chamber.
Unconscious of his brother's watch, he had asked her to wake him in good
time, for the young man was a sound sleeper. Shading the candle she bore
with one hand, with the other she drew aside the curtain, and looked at
Enguerrand's calm fair face, its lips parted in the happy smile which
seemed to carry joy with it wherever its sunshine played. Her tears fell
noiselessly on her darling's cheek; she then knelt down and prayed for
strength. As she rose she felt Raoul's arm around her; they looked at
each other in