The groups said, “Now they are beginning to tear down the curtain.”

We were holding Permanent Session at Marie’s house in the Rue Croix des Petits Champs.  Promises of co-operation poured in upon us from every side.  Several of our colleagues, who had not been able to find us on the previous day, had joined us, amongst others Emmanuel Arago, gallant son of an illustrious father; Farconnet and Roussel (de l’Yonne), and some Parisian celebrities, amongst whom was the young and already well-known defender of the Avenement du Peuple, M. Desmarets.

Two eloquent men, Jules Favre and Alexander Rey, seated at a large table near the window of the small room, were drawing up a Proclamation to the National Guard.  In the large room Sain, seated in an arm-chair, his feet on the dog-irons, drying his wet boots before a huge fire, said, with that calm and courageous smile which he wore in the Tribune, “Things are looking badly for us, but well for the Republic.  Martial law is proclaimed; it will be carried out with ferocity, above all against us.  We are laid in wait for, followed, tracked, there is little probability that we shall escape.  To-day, to-morrow, perhaps in ten minutes, there will be a ‘miniature massacre’ of Representatives.  We shall be taken here or elsewhere, shot down on the spot or killed with bayonet thrusts.  They will parade our corpses, and we must hope that that will at length raise the people and overthrow Bonaparte.  We are dead, but Bonaparte is lost.”

At eight o’clock, as Emile de Girardin had promised, we received from the printing office of the Presse five hundred copies of the decree of deposition and of outlawry endorsing the judgment of the High Court, and with all our signatures attached.  It was a placard twice as large as one’s hand, and printed on paper used for proofs.  Noel Parfait brought us the five hundred copies, still damp, between his waistcoat and his shirt.  Thirty Representatives divided the bills amongst them, and we sent them on the Boulevards to distribute the Decree to the People.

The effect of this Decree falling in the midst of the crowd was marvellous.  Some cafes had remained open, people eagerly snatched the bills, they pressed round the lighted shop windows, they crowded under the street lamps.  Some mounted on kerbstones or on tables, and read aloud the Decree.—­“That is it!  Bravo!” cried the people.  “The signatures!” “The signatures!” they shouted.  The signatures were read out, and at each popular name the crowd applauded.  Charamaule, merry and indignant, wandered through the groups, distributing copies of the Decree; his great stature, his loud and bold words, the packet of handbills which he raised, and waved above his head, caused all hands to be stretched out towards him.  “Shout ‘Down with Soulouque!’” said he, “and you shall have some.”  All this in the presence of the soldiers.  Even a sergeant of the line, noticing Charamaule, stretched out his