at their want of politeness.

The astonishing news had struck them dumb. Then they went about the
village venting their indignation.

Marescot, whom they found surrounded by a pile of deeds, took a
different view. The babbling of the Chamber was at an end, thank Heaven!
Henceforth they would have a business policy.

Beljambe knew nothing about the occurrences, and, furthermore, he
laughed at them.

In the market-place they stopped Vaucorbeil.

The physician had got over all that. "You are very foolish to bother
yourselves."

Foureau passed them by, remarking with a sly air, "The democrats are
swamped."

And the captain, with Girbal's arm in his, exclaimed from a distance,
"Long live the Emperor!"

But Petit would be sure to understand them, and Bouvard having tapped at
a window-pane, the schoolmaster quitted his class.

He thought it a good joke to have Thiers in prison. This would avenge
the people.

"Ha! ha! my gentlemen deputies, your turn now!"

The volley of musketry on the boulevards met with the approval of the
people of Chavignolles. No mercy for the vanquished, no pity for the
victims! Once you revolt, you are a scoundrel!

"Let us be grateful to Providence," said the cure, "and under Providence
to Louis Bonaparte. He gathers around him the most distinguished men.
The Count de Faverges will be made a senator."

Next day they had a visit from Placquevent.

"These gentlemen" had talked a great deal. He required a promise from
them to hold their tongues.

"Do you wish to know my opinion?" said Pecuchet. "Since the middle class
is ferocious and the working-men jealous-minded, whilst the people,
after all, accept every tyrant, so long as they are allowed to keep
their snouts in the mess, Napoleon has done right. Let him gag them, the
rabble, and exterminate them--this will never be too much for their
hatred of right, their cowardice, their incapacity, and their
blindness."

Bouvard mused: "Hey! progress! what humbug!" He added: "And politics, a
nice heap of dirt!"

"It is not a science," returned Pecuchet. "The military art is better:
you can tell what will happen--we ought to turn our hands to it."

"Oh, thanks," was Bouvard's answer. "I am disgusted with everything.
Better for us to sell our barrack, and go in the name of God's thunder
amongst the savages."

"Just as you like."

Melie was drawing water out in the yard.

The wooden pump had a long lever. In order to make it work, she be