To every word he says, the men but oppose the one cry: "Vive l'Empereur!"
The Comte de Cambray turns in despair to M. de St. Genis, who is a captain of artillery and whose men had hitherto been supposed to be tried and loyal royalists.
"If the men won't fire, Maurice," asks the Comte in despair, "cannot the officers at least fire the first shot?"
"M. le Comte," replies St. Genis through set teeth, for his heart was filled with wrath and shame at the defection of his men, "the gunners have declared that if the officers shoot, the men will shatter them to pieces with their own batteries."
The crowds outside the gate itself are swelling visibly. They press in from every side toward the city loudly demanding the surrender of the town. "Open the gates! open!" they shout, and their clamour becomes more insistent every moment. Already they have broken down the palisades which surround the military zone, they pour down the slopes against the gate. But the latter is heavy, and massive, studded with iron, stoutly resisting axe or pick.
"Open!" they cry. "Open! in the Emperor's name!"
They are within hailing distance of the soldiers on the ramparts: "What price your plums?" they shout gaily to the gunners.
"Quite cheap," retort the latter with equal gaiety, "but there's no danger of the Emperor getting any."
The women sing the old couplet:
"Bon! Bon! Napoléon
Va rentrer dans sa maison!"