squinted in their impatience and anxiety, and I think that
they did not see anything at all, and that their thoughts were
elsewhere with Bonaparte;--that was fearful.

The people kept coming and coming, till we were suffocating, and were
obliged to open the windows. Outside in the street, where the cavalry
barracks were, and on the Fountain Square, there was a great tumult.

"We did well to come at once," said Mr. Goulden, springing on a chair
and steadying himself with his hand on the stove. Others were doing
the same thing, and I followed his example. Nothing could be seen but
the eager faces and the big hats of the officers, and the great crowd
on the square outside in the moonlight. The tumult increased and a
voice cried, "Silence." It was the Commandant Margarot, who had
mounted upon a table. Behind him the gendarmes Keltz and Werner looked
on, and at all the open windows people were leaning in to hear. On the
square at the same instant somebody repeated, "Silence, silence." And
it was at once so still that you would have said, there was not a soul
there.

The commandant read the gazette, his clear voice pronouncing every word
with a sort of quaver in it, resembling the tic-tac of our clock in the
middle of the night, and it could be distinctly heard in the square.
The reading lasted a long time, for the commandant omitted nothing. I
remember it commenced by declaring that the one called Bonaparte, a
public enemy, who for fifteen years had held France in despotic
slavery, had escaped from his island, and had had the audacity to set
his foot on the soil deluged with blood through his own crimes, but
that the troops--faithful to the King and to the nation--were on the
march to stop him, and that in view of the general horror, Bonaparte,
with the handful of beggars that accompanied him, had fled into the
mountains, but that he was surrounded on all sides and could not escape.

I remember too, according to that gazette all the marshals had hastened
to place their glorious swords at the service of the King, the father
of the people and of the nation, and that the illustrious Marshal Ney,
Prince of Moscowa, had kissed the King's hand and promised to bring
Bonaparte to Paris dead or alive. After that there were some Latin
words which no doubt had been put there for the priests.

From time to time I heard some one behind me laughing and jeering at
the journal. On turning round, I saw that it was Professor B