Paris is waiting for the _mot d'ordre_ of the deputies of the Left. Since the announcement of the defeats they have become the only moral authority. Bourgeoisie, workingmen, all rally round them. The workshops have turned their army into the streets, and at the head of the different groups one sees men of tried energy. The Empire totters--it has now only to fall. The troops drawn up before the Corps Legislatif are greatly excited, ready to turn tail in spite of the decorated and grumbling Marshal Baraguay d'Hilliers. The people cry, "To the frontier." Officers answer aloud, "Our place is not here." In the Salle des Pas Perdus well-known Republicans, the men of the clubs, who have forced their way in, roughly apostrophise the Imperialist deputies, speak loudly of proclaiming the Republic. The pale-faced Mamelukes steal behind the groups. M. Thiers arrives and exclaims, "Well, then, make your republic!" When the President, Schneider, passes to the chair, he is received with cries of "Abdication!" The deputies of the Left are surrounded by delegates from without. "What are you waiting for? We are ready. Only show yourselves under the colonnades at the gates." The honourables seem confounded, stupefied. "Are you numerous enough? Were it not better to put it off till to-morrow?" There are indeed only 100,000 men ready. Some one arrives and tells Gambetta, "There are several thousands of us at the Place Bourbon." Another, the writer of this history, says, "Make sure of the situation to-day, when it may still be saved. To-morrow, having become desperate, it will be forced upon you." But these brains seem paralysed; no word escapes these gaping mouths. The sitting opens. Jules Favre proposes to this base Chamber, the abettor of our disasters, the humus of the Empire, to seize upon the government. The Mamelukes rise up in dudgeon, and Jules Simon, hair on end, returns to us in the Salle des Pas Perdus. "They threaten to shoot us," he shrieks; "I descended into the midst of the hall and said, 'Well, shoot us.'" We exclaim, "Put an end to this." "Yes," says he, "we must make an end of it,"--and he returns to the Chamber. And thus ended their "damnable faces." The Mamelukes, who know their Left, recover their self-assurance, throw Ollivier overboard and form a _coup-d'etat_ Ministry. Schneider precipitately breaks up the sitting in order to get rid of the crowd. The people, feebly repulsed by the soldiers, repair in masses to the bridges, follow those who leave the Chamber, expecting every moment to hear the Republic proclaimed. M. Jules Simon, out of reach of the bayonets, makes a heroic discourse, and convokes the people to meet the next day at the Place de la Concorde. The next day the police occupy all the approaches.