ver has told us the
details of this adventure, in which he ran such great danger. Will you be
kind enough to gratify our curiosity on this point?"

Marillac, among his other pretensions, had that of being able to relate a
story in an impressive manner. These words were as pleasing to his ears
as the request for a song is to a lady who requires urging, although she
is dying to sing.

"Ladies," said he, crossing one leg over the other and leaning upon one
arm of his chair, "it was on the twenty-eighth of July, 1830; the
disastrous decrees had produced their effects; the volcano which--"

"Pardon me, Monsieur, if I interrupt you," said Mademoiselle de
Corandeuil, quickly; "according to my opinion, and that of many others,
the royal decrees you speak of were good and necessary. The only mistake
of Charles Tenth was not to have fifty thousand men around Paris to force
their acceptance. I am only a woman, Monsieur, but if I had had under my
command twenty cannon upon the quays, and as many upon the boulevards, I
assure you that your tricolored flag never should have floated over the
Tuileries."

"Pitt and Cobourg!" said the artist between his teeth, as, with an
astonished air, he gazed at the old lady; but his common-sense told him
that republicanism was not acceptable within this castle. Besides,
remembering the mission with which he was charged, he did not think his
conscience would feel much hurt if he made a little concession of
principles and manoeuvred diplomatically.

"Madame," replied he, "I call the decrees disastrous when I think of
their result. You will certainly admit that our situation to-day ought to
make everybody regret the causes which brought it about."

"We are exactly of the same opinion regarding that point, Monsieur," said
Mademoiselle de Corandeuil, resuming her serenity.

"The open volcano beneath our feet," continued Marillac, who still stuck
to his point, "warned us by deep rumblings of the hot lava which was
about to gush forth. The excitement of the people was intense. Several
engagements with the soldiers had already taken place at different
points. I stood on the Boulevard Poissonniere, where I had just taken my
luncheon, and was gazing with an artist's eye upon the dramatic scene
spread out before me. Men with bare arms and women panting with
excitement were tearing up the pavements or felling trees. An omnibus had
just been upset; the rioters added cabriolets, furniture, and casks to
i