"And the Ministers, what do they?" asked Thiers.
"Oh! they are not idle," replied the soldier. "The bastilles are armed, and those of Montrouge and Aubervilliers are provisioned. The horse-artillery at Vincennes are ready, on the instant, to gallop into the capital. Seventy additional pieces of ordnance are now entering the barrières. The Municipal Guard are supplied with ball-cartridges. The troops concentrated at sunrise to-morrow will not be less than one hundred thousand strong. With these men in the forts and faithful, the city can be starved in three days, National Guard and all, if rebellious. Now is the crisis in which to test the remarkable admission of M. Duchatel, in May, '45, that the bastilles of Paris were designed to 'fortify order.' We shall see, we shall see!"
"And the Marshal Duke of Islay--where is he?" quietly asked Marrast, with a significant shrug and smile.
At this mention of his bitter foe, a frown lowered on the fine face of Lamoricière, as he briefly and sternly replied: "With the King, Monsieur--General Bugeaud is with the King. But they mistake, Monsieur. Eugène Cavaignac is the man for this emergency. Bugeaud is a soldier--a mere soldier--Cavaignac is a statesman--a Napoleon! Paris will discriminate between the two one day, and that shortly."
And with an abrupt military salute the conqueror of Algeria walked away, followed by his little brother-in-law, who seemed yet shorter and more insignificant at the side of his towering and graceful form. At the same moment, Ledru Rollin entered in great agitation, and, having glanced hastily around, as if in search of some one in the assemblage, advanced straight to the journalist and grasped his hand.
"By heavens, Armand, I think the hour has arrived!"
"Whence do you come?" was the quick question.
"From the Boulevards, where I left Flocon, Louis Blanc and M. Dantès, with the people. I tell you, Armand, the people are ripe--ripe! The Ministerial ordinances prohibiting the banquet have kindled a flame wherever they have gone. The pitiful manifesto of the opposition and the counter manifesto of the Twelfth Arrondissement have only served to fan this flame into fury. It has been our care to restrain and direct, not to excite. It is dark and cold without, Armand; the winter wind howls dismally along the streets, the sleet freezes as it falls and the furious blast almost extinguishes the torches by which, at the corners and at the cafés, the different manifestoes of the day are being read to the eager throngs, on whose faces, in the flare of the blood-red light, can be perceived the fury of their hearts. The people, at length, are ripe! To-morrow all Paris will be in arms!"