procession, and the tails, heads, bodies and legs of the
luckless quadrupeds could be seen behind the glittering glass panels
heaped together in wild disorder[8].

[Footnote 8: Memoires of the Marchioness de Crequi, vol. viii, p. 10.]

After this public canine funeral celebration of the one and indivisible
republic, the gilded state-coaches could not be consistently used for
any human and less mournful occasion, and hence it was that the consular
procession to the Tuileries was so deficient in carriages, and that
public hacks on which the numbers were defaced had to be employed.

With the entry of Bonaparte into the Tuileries the revolution was at an
end. He laid his victorious sword across the gory, yawning chasm which
had drunk the blood of both aristocrats and democrats; and of that sword
he made a bridge over which society might pass from one century to the
other, and from the republic to the empire.

As Bonaparte was walking with Josephine and Hortense through the Diana
Gallery on the morning after their entry into the Tuileries, and was
with them admiring the statuary he had caused to be placed there, both
of the ladies possessing much artistic taste, he paused in front of the
statue of the younger Brutus, which stood close to the statue of Julius
Caesar. He gazed long and earnestly at both of the grave, solemn faces;
but, suddenly, as though just awaking from a deep dream, he sharply
raised his head, and, laying his hand with an abrupt movement upon
Josephine's shoulder, as he looked up at the statue of Brutus with
blazing, almost menacing glances, said in a voice that made the hearts
of both the ladies bound within their bosoms:

"It is not enough to be in the Tuileries: one must remain there. And
whom has not this palace held? Even street thieves and conventionists
have occupied it! Did not I see with my own eyes how the savage Jacobins
and cohorts of _sans-culottes_ surrounded the palace and led away the
good King Louis XVI. as a prisoner! Ah! never mind, Josephine; have no
fear for the future! Let them but dare to come hither once more[9]!"

[Footnote 9: Bourrienne, vol. vi, p. 3.]

And, as Bonaparte stood there and thus spoke in front of the statues of
Brutus and Julius Caesar, his voice re-echoed like angry thunder through
the long gallery, and made the figures of the heroes of the dead
republic tremble on their pedestals.

Bonaparte lifted his arm menacingly toward the statue of Brutus, as
though