“Come along, then, citizens!” cried Destripes. “I always knew what would come of it, if these rascally bourgeoisie got the upper hand of the workmen. They are all black aristocrats in their hearts. But, by the head of Robespierre, thou shalt find that thy government is not settled yet, and there shall be more blood before we let them trample down the rights of the people!”
So saying, the democratic butcher strode from the apartment, followed by the rest of the Provisional Government and their adherents, each retaining the garb which he had chosen to wear in honour of the nuptials of Bagsby. The poissarde lingered for a moment, eyeing her faithless betrothed as he stood in the midst of the Guard, like a lioness robbed of her cub; and then, with a cry of wrath, and a gesture of menace, she rushed after her companions.
“Thank Heaven!” cried Bagsby, dropping on his knees, “the bitterest hour of my whole existence is over!”
CHAPTER VII.
ADIEU, SWEET FRANCE!
“And so you received the message from M. Albert?” said I to Monte-Christo, as we walked together to the Hôtel de Ville.
“I did; and to say the truth, I was rather apprehensive about you. Revolutions are all very well; but it is a frightful thing when the dregs of the population get the upper hand.”
“I am glad to hear you acknowledge so much. For my part, Marquis, having seen one revolution, I never wish to witness another.”
“We could not possibly avoid it,” said Monte-Christo. “It was a mere question of time. No one doubts that a revolutionary spirit may be carried too far.”