"Bah! Have you not tried, and found you could make nothing of it?"
"I think not, my friend," replied the legitimatist: "we were doing very well, and exerting ourselves to keep the unruly spirits in order, when you stepped in, and promised all the naughty boys in Paris a holiday if they would but make you master. They did make you master—they have had their holiday, and now...."
"And now ..." said I, "what will come next?"
Both the gentlemen answered me at once.
"Riots," said the legitimatist.
"Good order," said the doctrinaire.
We proceeded in our walk, and having crossed the Pont Royal, kept along the Quai Voltaire, to avoid the Rue du Bac; as we all agreed that, notwithstanding Madame de Staël spoke so lovingly of it at a distance, it was far from agreeable when near.
Were it not for a sort of English horror of standing before shop-windows, the walking along that Quai Voltaire might occupy an entire morning. From the first wide-spread display of "remarkable people" for five sous apiece—and there are heads among them which even in their rude lithography would repay some study—from this five-sous gallery of fame to the entrance of the Rue de Seine, it is an almost uninterrupted show;—books, old and new—rich, rare, and worthless; engravings that may be classed likewise,—articles d'occasion of all sorts,—but, far above all the rest, the most glorious museums of old carving and gilding, of monstrous chairs, stupendous candlesticks, grotesque timepieces, and ornaments without a name, that can be found in the world. It is here that the wealthy fancier of the massive splendour of Louis Quinze comes with a full purse, and it is hence that beyond all hope he departs with a light one. The present royal family of France, it is said, profess a taste for this princely but ponderous style of decoration; and royal carriages are often seen to stop at the door of magasins so heterogeneous in their contents as to admit all titles excepting only that of "magasin de nouveautés," but having at the first glance very greatly the air of a pawnbroker's shop.
During this lounge along the Quai Voltaire, I saw for the first time some marvellously uncomely portraits, with the names of each inscribed below, and a running title for all, classing them en masse as "Les Prévenus d'Avril." If these be faithful portraits, the originals are to be greatly pitied; for they seem by nature predestined to the evil work they have been about. Every one of them looks
"Worthy to be a rebel, for to that