'Farewell, my friends; they are beating the appel on high.'
Lifting himself to his feet, by a superhuman effort, he stood straight as a lance for one moment, then flung out his arms and fell back dead.
There was a smile on his wan thin lips, and a hectic glow on his cheeks. He was happier than his comrades, who did not follow him till another year had driven France to grief and Paris to delirium, had wiped out the legend of the Empire as with a bloody sponge, and had torn down the monument to The Man.
THE END.
BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] In Paris the pawn-office is called 'my aunt,' as it is nick-named 'my uncle' in England.
[2] 'To have the sack,' Paris slang for 'to be in funds.'
[3] To be out of money.
[4] The debtors' prison.