DE MAULEON.—“You forget that I have fought in Algeria. In a few days Paris will be in a state of siege; and then—and then,” he added, and very quietly dilated on the renown of a patriot or the grave of a soldier.
“I envy you the chance of either,” said the Incognito; and after a few more brief words he departed, his hat drawn over his brows, and entering a hired carriage which he had left at the corner of the quiet street, was consigned to the station du ————, just in time for the next train.
CHAPTER XI.
Victor dressed and went out. The streets were crowded. Workmen were everywhere employed in the childish operation of removing all insignia, and obliterating all names that showed where an Empire had existed. One greasy citizen, mounted on a ladder, was effacing the words “Boulevard Haussman,” and substituting for Haussman, “Victor Hugo.”
Suddenly De Mauleon came on a group of blouses, interspersed with women holding babies and ragged boys holding stones, collected round a well-dressed slender man, at whom they were hooting and gesticulating, with menaces of doing something much worse. By an easy effort of his strong frame the Vicomte pushed his way through the tormentors, and gave his arm to their intended victim.
“Monsieur, allow me to walk home with you.” Therewith the shrieks and shouts and gesticulations increased. “Another impertinent! Another traitor! Drown him! Drown them both! To the Seine! To the Seine!” A burly fellow rushed forward, and the rest made a plunging push. The outstretched arm of De Mauleon kept the ringleader at bay. “Mes enfans,” cried Victor with a calm clear voice, “I am not an Imperialist. Many of you have read the articles signed Pierre Firmin, written against the tyrant Bonaparte when he was at the height of his power. I am Pierre Firmin—make way for me.” Probably not one in the crowd had ever read a word written by Pierre Firmin, nor even heard of the name. But they did not like to own ignorance; and that burly fellow did not like to encounter that arm of iron which touched his throat. So he cried out, “Oh! if you are the great Pierre Firmin, that alters the case. Make way for the patriot Pierre!”
“But,” shrieked a virago, thrusting her baby into De Mauleon’s face, “the other is the Imperialist, the capitalist, the vile Duplessis. At least we will have him.”
De Mauleon suddenly snatched the baby from her, and said, with imperturbable good temper, “Exchange of prisoners. I resign the man, and I keep the baby.”
No one who does not know the humours of a Parisian mob can comprehend the suddenness of popular change, or the magical mastery over crowds which is effected by quiet courage and a ready joke. The group was appeased at once. Even the virago laughed; and when De Mauleon restored the infant to her arms, with a gold piece thrust into its tiny clasp, she eyed the gold, and cried, “God bless you, citizen!” The two gentlemen made their way safely now.