Michel de Bourges spoke with an experience of revolutionary procedure which was wanting in me.  For many years past he had acquired a certain practical knowledge of the masses.  His council was wise.  It must be added that all the information which came to us seconded him, and appeared conclusive against me.  Paris was dejected.

The army of the coup d’etat invaded her peaceably.  Even the placards were not torn down.  Nearly all the Representatives present, even the most daring, agreed with Michel’s counsel, to wait and see what would happen.  “At night,” said they, “the agitation will begin,” and they concluded, like Michel de Bourges, that the people must be given time to understand.  There would be a risk of being alone in too hasty a beginning.  We should not carry the people with us in the first moment.  Let us leave the indignation to increase little by little in their hearts.  If it were begun prematurely our manifestation would miscarry.  These were the sentiments of all.  For myself, while listening to them, I felt shaken.  Perhaps they were right.  It would be a mistake to give the signal for the combat in vain.  What good is the lightning which is not followed by the thunderbolt?

To raise a voice, to give vent to a cry, to find a printer, there was the first question.  But was there still a free Press?

The brave old ex-chief of the 6th Legion, Colonel Forestier, came in.  He took Michel de Bourges and myself aside.

“Listen,” said he to us.  “I come to you.  I have been dismissed.  I no longer command my legion, but appoint me in the name of the Left, Colonel of the 6th.  Sign me an order and I will go at once and call them to arms.  In an hour the regiment will be on foot.”

“Colonel,” answered I, “I will do more than sign an order, I will accompany you.”

And I turned towards Charamaule, who had a carriage in waiting.

“Come with us,” said I.

Forestier was sure of two majors of the 6th.  We decided to drive to them at once, while Michel and the other Representatives should await us at Bonvalet’s, in the Boulevard du Temple, near the Cafe Turc.  There they could consult together.

We started.

We traversed Paris, where people were already beginning to swarm in a threatening manner.  The boulevards were thronged with an uneasy crowd.  People walked to and fro, passers-by accosted each other without any previous acquaintance, a noteworthy sign of public anxiety; and groups talked in loud voices at the corners of the streets.  The shops were being shut.

“Come, this looks better,” cried Charamaule.

He had been wandering about the town since the morning, and he had noticed with sadness the apathy of the masses.

We found the two majors at home upon whom Colonel Forestier counted.  They were two rich linendrapers, who received us with some embarrassment.  The shopmen had gathered together at the windows, and watched us pass by.  It was mere curiosity.