"I have thought of the Count Mole," observed the King.
"He is an able man, sire," replied Guizot; "and his political connections with M. Barrot and M. Thiers may aid him to form a Ministry. But, sire, not an instant is to be lost. Your faithful Ministers will do all they can, but a Ministerial crisis cannot be delayed; and, if your Majesty will permit the suggestion, the emergency demands that to Marshal Bugeaud be given the command of Paris."
"You will proceed to the Chamber to announce that M. Mole is entrusted with the formation of a new cabinet," said the King.
And the council closed.
At four, an officer of the staff passed along the boulevards, announcing the fall of the Ministry.
Instantly, with the speed of the telegraph, the intelligence flew to the obscurest parts of Paris. Its effect was, at first, most cheering. Barricades were deserted and arms thrown down; faces brightened, hands, almost stained with each other's blood, were clasped; troops and people, unwillingly fighting, embraced; all was triumph, joy and congratulation.
"All now is over—all is right at last!" was the exclamation of one man of the people to another.
"Guizot has fallen, but the King has sent for Count Mole," replied a third, with a dissatisfied air.
"No matter," cried the first speaker, "the system is overturned! What care we who is Minister?"
"It is too late," replied the other. "Guizot has been forced away by the people—Mole may be forced away, too—so may the King! No more tricks! The people now know their power. There shall be no mistake this time!"