old shakos of the time
of Lafayette--five or six, no more--the National Guard having fallen
into desuetude at Chavignolles. Peasants and their wives, workmen from
neighbouring factories, and village brats, crowded together in the
background; and Placquevent, the keeper, five feet eight inches in
height, kept them in check with a look as he walked to and fro with
folded arms.

The cure's speech was like that of other priests in similar
circumstances. After thundering against kings, he glorified the
Republic. "Do we not say 'the republic of letters,' 'the Christian
republic'? What more innocent than the one, more beautiful than the
other? Jesus Christ formulated our sublime device: the tree of the
people was the tree of the Cross. In order that religion may give her
fruits, she has need of charity." And, in the name of charity, the
ecclesiastic implored his brethren not to commit any disorder; to return
home peaceably.

Then he sprinkled the tree while he invoked the blessing of God. "May it
grow, and may it recall to us our enfranchisement from all servitude,
and that fraternity more bountiful than the shade of its branches.
Amen."

Some voices repeated "Amen"; and, after an interval of drum-beating, the
clergy, chanting a _Te Deum_, returned along the road to the church.

Their intervention had produced an excellent effect. The simple saw in
it a promise of happiness, the patriotic a mark of deference, a sort of
homage rendered to their principles.

Bouvard and Pecuchet thought they should have been thanked for their
present, or at least that an allusion should have been made to it; and
they unbosomed themselves on the subject to Faverges and the doctor.

What mattered wretched considerations of that sort? Vaucorbeil was
delighted with the Revolution; so was the count. He execrated the
Orleans family. They would never see them any more! Good-bye to them!
All for the people henceforth! And followed by Hurel, his factotum, he
went to meet the cure.

Foureau was walking with his head down, between the notary and the
innkeeper, irritated by the ceremony, as he was apprehensive of a riot;
and instinctively he turned round towards Placquevent, who, together
with the captain, gave vent to loud regrets at Girbal's
unsatisfactoriness and the sorry appearance of his men.

Some workmen passed along the road singing the "Marseillaise," with
Gorju among them brandishing a stick; Petit was escorting them, with
fire in his