on a chair, one at a table, another astride on his bench, with his plate before him, “as at a ball-room supper,” a dandy of the Right said laughingly, Thuriot de la Rosiere, son of the regicide Thuriot.  M. de Remusat buried his head in his hands.  Emile Pean said to him, “We shall get over it.”  And Gustave de Beaumont cried out, addressing himself to the Republicans, “And your friends of the Left!  Will they preserve their honor?  Will there be an insurrection at least?” They passed each other the dishes and plates, the Right showing marked attention to the Left.  “Here is the opportunity to bring about a fusion,” said a young Legitimist.  Troopers and canteen men waited upon them.  Two or three tallow candles burnt and smoked on each table.  There were few glasses.  Right and Left drank from the same.  “Equality, fraternity,” exclaimed the Marquis Sauvaire-Barthelemy, of the Right.  And Victor Hannequin answered him, “But not Liberty.”

Colonel Feray, the son-in-law of Marshal Bugeaud, was in command at the barracks; he offered the use of his drawing-room to M. de Broglie and to M. Odilon Barrot, who accepted it.  The barrack doors were opened to M. de Keratry, on account of his great age, to M. Dufaure, as his wife had just been confined, and to M. Etienne, on account of the wound which he had received that morning in the Rue de Bourgogne.  At the same time there were added to the two hundred and twenty MM.  Eugene Sue, Benoist (du Rhone), Fayolle, Chanay, Toupet des Vignes, Radoubt-Lafosse, Arbey, and Teillard-Laterisse, who up to that time had been detained in the new Palace of Foreign Affairs.

Towards eight o’clock in the evening, when dinner was over, the restrictions were a little relaxed, and the intermediate space between the door and the barred gate of the barracks began to be littered with carpet bags and articles of toilet sent by the families of the imprisoned Representatives.

The Representatives were summoned by their names.  Each went down in turn, and briskly remounted with his cloak, his coverlet, or his foot-warmer.  A few ladies succeeded in making their way to their husbands.  M.M.  Chambolle was able to press his son’s hand through the bars.

Suddenly a voice called out, “Oho!  We are going to spend the night here.”  Mattresses were brought in, which were thrown on the tables, on the floor, anywhere.

Fifty or sixty Representatives found resting-places on them.  The greater number remained on their benches.  Marc Dufraisse settled himself to pass the night on a footstool, leaning on a table.  Happy was the man who had a chair.

Nevertheless, cordiality and gaiety did not cease to prevail.  “Make room for the ‘Burgraves!’” said smilingly a venerable veteran of the Right.  A young Republican Representative rose, and offered him his mattress.  They pressed on each offers of overcoats, cloaks, and coverlets.

“Reconciliation,” said Chamiot, while offering the half of his mattress to the Duc de Luynes.  The Duc de Luynes, who had 80,000 francs a year, smiled, and replied to Chamiot, “You are St. Martin, and I am the beggar.”