"What do you want, monsieur? and why have you presented yourselves before our printing house?"
"Monsieur," stammered the Superintendent of Police, "I have come in consequence of the Ordinances...."
"To break up our presses, I suppose?" Baude questioned. "Well, then, in the name of the Code, which is both anterior and superior to your Ordinance, I call upon you to respect them!"
And Baude stretched forth a copy of the Code opened at the article on Effraction (Housebreaking). This weapon was, certainly, of a more alarming and terrible nature than the presenting of pistols or swords, but the Superintendent's orders had been perfectly clear.
"Monsieur," he said, "I am obliged to do my duty"; and, turning to one of his men, he said, "Send somebody to find a locksmith."
"All right! I will wait till he comes," said Baude.
A murmur ran through the crowd. They began to understand that there, in the open street, before the eyes of the crowd, under the gaze of Providence, was going to take place one of the grandest spectacles that it is given to human sight to behold—the resistance of law to arbitrary force, of the individual to the crowd, of conscience to tyranny.
Not a man among the spectators had said to Baude, "You can count on my support"; but it was apparent that he felt he could reckon on all.
The locksmith arrived; and, at the order of the Superintendent, he was just going to cross the threshold of the street door, in order to go and open the doors of the printing house with his tools, when Baude, stopping him, by gently taking hold of his arm, said—
"My friend, you probably do not know what risks you are running by obeying the orders of the Superintendent of Police? You are running the risk of being sent to the galleys." And he read in a loud voice the following lines:—