constant movement, Andre-Louis beheld tradesmen in
sober garments, merchants in long, fur-lined coats; occasionally
a merchant-prince rolling along in his two-horse cabriolet to the
whip-crackings and shouts of "Gare!" from his coachman; occasionally a
dainty lady carried past in her sedan-chair, with perhaps a mincing abbe
from the episcopal court tripping along in attendance; occasionally an
officer in scarlet riding disdainfully; and once the great carriage of
a nobleman, with escutcheoned panels and a pair of white-stockinged,
powdered footmen in gorgeous liveries hanging on behind. And there were
Capuchins in brown and Benedictines in black, and secular priests in
plenty--for God was well served in the sixteen parishes of Nantes--and
by way of contrast there were lean-jawed, out-at-elbow adventurers, and
gendarmes in blue coats and gaitered legs, sauntering guardians of the
peace.

Representatives of every class that went to make up the seventy thousand
inhabitants of that wealthy, industrious city were to be seen in
the human stream that ebbed and flowed beneath the window from which
Andre-Louis observed it.

Of the waiter who ministered to his humble wants with soup and bouilli,
and a measure of vin gris, Andre-Louis enquired into the state of public
feeling in the city. The waiter, a staunch supporter of the privileged
orders, admitted regretfully that an uneasiness prevailed. Much would
depend upon what happened at Rennes. If it was true that the King had
dissolved the States of Brittany, then all should be well, and the
malcontents would have no pretext for further disturbances. There had
been trouble and to spare in Nantes already. They wanted no repetition
of it. All manner of rumours were abroad, and since early morning there
had been crowds besieging the portals of the Chamber of Commerce for
definite news. But definite news was yet to come. It was not even known
for a fact that His Majesty actually had dissolved the States.

It was striking two, the busiest hour of the day upon the Bourse, when
Andre-Louis reached the Place du Commerce. The square, dominated by the
imposing classical building of the Exchange, was so crowded that he
was compelled almost to fight his way through to the steps of the
magnificent Ionic porch. A word would have sufficed to have opened a way
for him at once. But guile moved him to keep silent. He would come upon
that waiting multitude as a thunderclap, precisely as yesterday