One of the assistants followed him.
“Good day, Tuesday,” cried they once more.
Both of them took their place on the seat in front. Now it was my turn, and I mounted with a calm demeanour.
“He is going to die game,” said a woman near the gendarmes.
This infamous praise gave me courage. The priest took his place by me. I was placed in the back seat, my face turned away from the horse. I shivered at this last act of attention. There was an air of humanity in it.
A squadron of gendarmes awaited me at the gate of the palace.
The officer gave the word of command, and the escort and the cart started with a roar of applause from the crowd.
“Hats off! hats off!” cried a thousand throats. It was as if the king was passing.
Then I laughed a ghastly laugh, and muttered to the priest, “Their hats, my head!”
We moved at a foot’s pace.