Now, no one
could entertain this hope longer; now, the most timid must confess
that a revolution had indeed come, and that people must accustom
themselves to look at it eye to eye.
Slowly the train moved forward--slowly down the quay which extends
along by the garden of the Tuileries. The loungers who were in the
garden hurried to the fence, which then bordered the park on the
side of the quay, in order to watch this frightful procession from
this point: to see an unbridled populace dash in pieces the
prescriptive royalty of ages.
Scorn and the love of destruction were written on most of the faces
of these observers, but many were pale, and many quivered with anger
and grief. In the front ranks of the spectators stood two young men,
one of them in simple civilian's costume, the other in the uniform
of a sub-lieutenant. The face of the young officer was pale, but it
lightened up with rare energy; and with his noble, antique profile,
and flaming eyes, it enchanted every look, and fixed the attention
of every one who observed him.
As the howling, roaring mob passed him, the young officer turned to
his companion with an expression of fiery indignation. "0 God," he
cried, "how is this possible? Has the king no cannon to destroy this
canaille? " [Footnote: His own words.--See Beauchesne, vol.
Pages:
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350