There had been so much talk about this debate, that Madame Paturot resolved to witness it, and by great exertions she obtained a ticket. She could no longer reckon on Simon for admission, the ungrateful miller having passed over to the enemy, and yielded himself captive to the fleshpots and flatteries of the "Provisional." Jérome, who had a presentiment of danger, urged her not to go, the more so as she would have to go alone, for he could get no order. But the exgrisette, all courage and confidence, laughed at the notion of danger, despised caution, and betook herself to the Chamber. Paturot and Oscar sauntered on the Boulevards. Nothing indicated a disturbance, until they reached the Porte St Denis. There the scene changed as suddenly as at shifter's whistle. A multitude of heads covered the Boulevard, green branches forming above them an undulating canopy of verdure. The throng moved steadily in one direction: songs and cries broke from its bosom. The name of Poland was predominant. Oscar caught the infection and repeated the cry, "_Vive la Pologne!_" In vain Paturot remonstrated. The artist's beard bristled with excitement. He had passed seven years of his childhood in the same room with a portrait of Poniatowski taking his famous leap into the Elster. After that, would Jérome have him forget Poland? Forbid it, heaven! And "_Vive la Pologne!_" "The column advanced, with its leafy trophies--the clubs, the national workshops, (Comtois and Percheron in the van,) with flags and banners, cards in their hatbands, and other rallying signs. There was a certain degree of order. Here and there, at street corners, were seen the great leaders of the manifestation, presidents of clubs, or persons to whom captivity had given celebrity, encouraging their men by word and gesture, now by a short speech, or apropos cheer, then by a shake of the hand. Oscar knew all these heroes of revolt, these princes of the prison." And knowing them, the impetuous artist was at least convinced that Poland was only the pretext. He ceased his ill-advised hurras, and resumed the part of a mere observer. As the column advanced, the shops shut. The air was full of menacing sounds. Thousands of Poles and Italians, bearing the banners of their respective countries, joined the mob. Uniforms abounded, officers' epaulets were not rare: even those corps charged with the police of the city contributed their quota to the concourse. The multitude pressed forward with the confidence of people who dispose of an empire. The chiefs of the insurrection were not men to enter the field unadvisedly, and their countenances betrayed a consciousness of strength. Their passage afforded evidence of a vast complicity. They advanced, without obstacle or impediment, even to the very doors of the Assembly. A few bayonets upon the bridge leading to the palace were overthrown in an instant, and the building was forthwith surrounded by furious groups. The gates were burst by Comtois and his