“I was told,” continued the aide-de-camp, “as I came along, that Count Molé had been sent for.” “Molé! bah! an imbecile!” muttered the diminutive statesman. “It was not worth a revolution to produce such a miserable result.” “And what say the people?” asked our host. “_Cela ne suffira pas!_” “_Ah, les bons citoyens! Ah, les braves garçons! Je les connais!_” And here the candidate for office executed a playful pirouette. “Nevertheless,” said Lamoricière, “we must do our duty.” “Which is?” interrupted De la Pailleterie. “To see the play played out, at all events,” replied the military patriot; “and therefore, messieurs, I have the honour to wish you all a very good evening.” “But stop, General,” cried two or three voices: “what would you advise us to do?” “In the first place, gentlemen,” replied the warrior, and his words were listened to with the deepest attention, “I would recommend you, as the streets are in a disturbed state, to see the ladies home. That duty performed, you will probably be guided by your own sagacity and tastes. The National Guard will, of course, muster at their quarters. Gentlemen who are of an architectural genius will probably be gratified by an opportunity of inspecting several barricades in different parts of the city; and I have always observed, that behind a wall of this description, there is little danger from a passing bullet. Others, who are fond of fireworks, may possibly find an opportunity of improving themselves in the pyrotechnic art. But I detain you, gentlemen, I fear unjustifiably; and as I observe that the firing has begun, I have the honour once more to renew my salutations.” And in fact a sharp fusillade was heard without, towards the conclusion of the General’s harangue. The whole party was thrown into confusion; several ladies showed symptoms of fainting, and were incontinently received in the arms of their respective cavaliers. The aspiring statesman had disappeared. Whether he got under a sofa, or up the chimney, I do not know, but he vanished utterly from my eyes. Monte-Christo was in a prodigious state of excitement. “I have kept my word, you see,” he said: “this may be misconstrued in history, but I call upon you to bear witness that the revolution was a triumph of genius. O France!” continued he, filling his pocket with macaroons, “the hour of thine emancipation has come!” Observing a middle-aged lady making towards the door without male escort, I thought it incumbent upon me to tender my services, in compliance with the suggestions of the gallant Lamoricière. I was a good deal obstructed, however, by Mr Hutton Bagsby, who, in extreme alarm, was cleaving to the skirts of my garments. “Can I be of the slightest assistance in offering my escort to madame?” said I with a respectful bow. The lady looked at me with unfeigned surprise.