“After all,” thought I, “the event may be an interesting, but it is by no means an unusual one, in this transitory world of ours. Louis XVI., Napoleon, Charles X., Louis Philippe, and Dunshunner, have by turns occupied the palace, and none of them have had the good fortune to leave it in perpetuity to their issue. Since abdication is the order of the day, I shall even follow the example of my royal predecessors, and bolt with as much expedition as possible; for, to say the truth, I am getting tired of this turmoil, and I think, with Sir Kenneth of Scotland, that the waters of the Clyde would sound pleasant and grateful in mine ear.” A very slight toilet sufficed for the occasion, and I sallied forth with the full intention of making my immediate escape. This was not so easy. I encountered no one in the corridors, but as I opened the door of the Salle des Trophées, a din of many voices burst upon my ears. A number of persons occupied the hall, apparently engaged in the discussion of an extempore breakfast. To my infinite disgust, I recognised my quondam acquaintances of the cellar. “Aha! thou art still here then, citizen?” cried Monsieur Destripes, who was inflicting huge gashes upon a ham, filched, probably, from the royal buttery. “By my faith we thought thou had’st given us the slip. Never mind—we are not likely to part soon; so sit thee down and partake of our republican cheer.” “I am afraid,” said I, “that business requires my presence elsewhere.” “Let it keep till it cool then,” replied the other. “Suffice it to say, that no man quits this hall till the whole of us march out _en masse_. Say I right, brother Pomme-de-terre?” “Just so,” replied the chiffonier, tossing off his draught from an ornament of Venetian glass. “We have built up a second barricade, and have sworn never to surrender.” “How is this, gentlemen?” said I. “You must know, sir,” replied a meagre-looking personage, whom I afterwards ascertained to be a barber, “that the liberty of the people is not yet secure. Last night, when we were in the cellar, a large body of the National Guard came, by orders of the Provisional Government, and ejected the whole of our compatriots from the upper stories of the Tuilleries. This we hold to be a clear infraction of the charter, for all public buildings are declared to be the property of the people. Fortunately we escaped their notice, but being determined to reassert the rights of France, we have barricaded the staircase which leads to this hall, and are resolved to maintain our post.” “Bravely spoken, old Saigne-du-nez!” cried the butcher; “and a jollier company you won’t find any where. Here are ladies for society, wine for the drinking, provisions to last us a week; and what would you wish for more? _Cent mille haches!_ I doubt if Louis Philippe is enjoying himself half so much.” “But really, gentlemen—”