"What Oliver says bears the stamp of reason," remarked Lebrenn.

"Our friends said to Carnot," returned Martin, "'The Emperor will be forced to abdicate, his hopes of empire will be blasted. The allies will not content themselves with sending him back again to Elba; he has everything to fear at their hands. Well, despairing as our position seems, never, if he wished it, will it have been so excellent! He can yet become the savior of France and the admiration of posterity. Let him again transform himself into General Bonaparte, let him put himself at the head of the troops and the armed people, with the battle-cry "Long live the Republic! Long live the Nation!" Then liberty will triumph and France arise, as ever, victorious.'"

"My heart leaps with enthusiasm at hearing such n.o.ble language," cried Oliver. "Yes, yes, Long live the Republic! No more monarchs! Neither Kings nor masters!"

"'The Emperor is resolved to abdicate,' replied Carnot to us," Martin continued. "'He knows well enough that he has only to don the red bonnet and cry To arms! for the whole people to rise. But he does not desire a new revolution, he does not want to go outside the law. He has no longer any authority. The Chamber of Deputies has seized the executive power, and is treating with the allies. The Emperor's part is played, he can do nothing more for France. Without his concurrence, I consider it futile to engage upon a struggle.' Such was the response of Carnot."

Castillon and d.u.c.h.emin were the next to come into the cloth shop. The first, in his working clothes, still had on his leather ap.r.o.n, blackened by smoke from the forge. d.u.c.h.emin, whose moustache had grown quite grey in the interim, wore a veteran's uniform. He had been placed in that corps after the Russian campaign, in which he served as quartermaster in the artillery of the Imperial Guard.

"Well, my friends, what news from the suburbs?" asked Lebrenn.

"In St. Antoine they are demanding arms to run to the defense of the barrier of La Villette, which they say is already threatened by the Prussians. 'Guns! Your Emperor will never give them to you!' I told them," answered Castillon. And catching sight of General Oliver, he gazed at him a moment open-mouthed and concluded: "Well, I am not blind! There is Oliver! What a strange encounter!"

"It is indeed Oliver, our old apprentice," said Lebrenn, smiling.

"Ah, it is really you, my fine fellow!" returned Castillon. "Well, well!

It seems you have become a general. Well, that is nothing wrong, for you are a brave one. But I also learned--and this, on my faith, would make a hen smile--I also read that you had become a Count! Is it possible! You, a Count! an ex-ragam.u.f.fin who used to ply the bellows for our forge, and to whom I taught the song of those fine days: '_Ah ca ira, ca ira_, to the lamp-post with the aristocrats!'"

Instead this time of getting angry, Oliver smiled sadly and extended his hand to Castillon, saying, "Amuse yourself at my expense, my old Castillon; it is your right. Your quips are merited, I confess my wrongs. But be indulgent toward your old comrade. To-day, I wish to fight for the Republic."

"Heaven be thanked! You have sung me an air there that has brought the tears to my eyes," exclaimed Castillon with emotion as he eagerly pressed the general's hand.

d.u.c.h.emin smiled genially and gave the military salute. "Present, general," he said. "Still another of the Army of the Rhine and Moselle.

You do not recall me at the pa.s.sage of the Beresina?"

"Well! Well!" replied Oliver warmly. "Well do I remember you, and Carmagnole, your sweetheart of a spit-fire."

"Here is an ex-member of the battalion of Paris Volunteers--a tried patriot, and a republican of the old school," raid Castillon, indicating to General Oliver Duresnel, who just then entered.

"Ah, my friend," said John Lebrenn to the new arrival, "if you do not bring me better news than Martin has just given us, our reunion to-day will lack its flavor. The ma.s.ses lie indifferent."

"_Consummatum est!_" Duresnel sighed by way of answer. "It is finished.

I have just left the Chamber of Deputies; the Emperor has issued his abdication, and is preparing, they say, to set out for his residence of Malmaison, where he will remain while the allies settle upon his fate."

"And what news of the army?"

"The Prince of Eckmuehl, who commands the troops united under the walls of Paris, a.s.sembled his generals this morning, and all or nearly all have gone over to the Bourbon government. No more hope for it; we must endure the ignominy of a second Restoration."

"In which case, friend John, what shall we do? Without arms, without headship, without leaders, the people can do nothing," sighed Castillon.

"The old sans-culottes of the St. Antoine suburb ask nothing better than to go to the front. In desperation for the cause, they were to march to-day in ma.s.s to the Elysian Fields, in the hope that Napoleon would yield to the acclamations of the populace," commented d.u.c.h.emin.

"I am on guard at the Elysian Fields at six o'clock!" exclaimed John Lebrenn, looking at his watch. "Like an old National Guard, I must to my post. Adieu, friends!" And he continued to Oliver, "Come to supper this evening with us and with our old comrades here. We shall take our adieus of the banished soldier, and before we part, Oliver, we will drain a last b.u.mper of wine to the re-birth of the Republic. Neither Kings nor masters! The Commune, the Federation, and the Red Flag!"

"Till this evening, then," replied Oliver. "Long live the Republic! War upon Kings! Down with the Bourbons!"

CHAPTER X.

DEPOSITION.

Although it was mid-June, the day touched its close towards eight o'clock in the evening. The shadows of night were already mingling with the thick shade of the Elysian Garden, where Napoleon dismounted on his return from Waterloo. A compact ma.s.s of people filled Marigny Alley, one of whose sides was formed by the terrace of the palace, on which trees and verdure grew in profusion.

The throng was composed almost to a man of artisans or federated troops of the suburbs. From time to time the buzzing of the vast mult.i.tude was dominated by the cry from thousands of throats--"Down with the Bourbons!"--"Down with the foreigners!"--"Down with the traitors!"--"Arms!"--"To the front!"--"Long live the Emperor!"

As the evening wore on, however, that last cry of "Long live the Emperor," became more and more infrequent. The people understood at last that Napoleon, whose return they had acclaimed with such hopefulness, preferred rather to abandon France to the woes which hung over her than to make an appeal to the spirit of Revolution. The Corsican ceased to be the idol of the people. Cursed be the name of Napoleon!

At his post, gun on shoulder, John Lebrenn paced up and down the length of the terrace of the Elysian Garden. He heard the cries of the crowd--"Down with the traitors"--"Down with the Bourbons"--"The Emperor, the Emperor!"--"War to the knife against the invaders!"

At that moment Napoleon, in a round hat and plain citizen's cloak, turned out of the alley which ab.u.t.ted on the terrace. The dethroned Emperor was walking, in a revery, his hands crossed behind his back. In the dark, and under the trees, he did not notice the sentry until close upon him. When he did, he stopped short, and, falling into his usual habit of questioning those whom he met, he said to Lebrenn, who presented arms:

"Have you been in the service?"

"Yes, Sire," replied John. The thought flashed through his mind that he had in the same words answered Louis Capet in his prison in the Temple; now he was calling Napoleon "Sire" on the day of his deposition.

"What campaigns were you in? Answer," commanded Napoleon.

"The campaign of 1794, in the Army of the Rhine and Moselle."

"Under the Republic! Have you served since?"

"No, Sire; I was married. I served the Republic."

"What is your profession?"

"I am a cloth merchant."

"In what quarter?"

"St. Denis Street."

"What say they of the Emperor among the merchants of St. Denis Street?

Answer me without hunting for phrases."

At that moment a new cry burst from the throng below and reached the ears of Napoleon:

"Down with the Bourbons!"

"Down with the traitors!"

"Arms! Arms! To the frontiers!"

"The Emperor, long live the Emperor!"

"Again?" said Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders; and then to Lebrenn, "Well, what do they say of me in St. Denis Street?"