“After all,” remarked Gohier, encouragingly, “how can they have a revolution at St. Cloud when I have the seals of the Republic in my possession?” Nothing legal could be attested without the seals. Gohier had the seals; hence, Gohier was master of the situation. Of such lawyers, in such a crisis, well might Lefebvre say, “Let us pitch them into the river.” Quite relieved by the statement about the seals, Moulins remembered another crumb of comfort: he had been invited to meet Napoleon at dinner that very day at Gohier’s. Between the soup and the cheese, the two honest Directors would penetrate the designs of the schemer, Napoleon, and then checkmate him. Moreau had already been commissioned to keep these confiding legists from running at large. However, it was not a great while before they realized the true situation, and then they came to a grotesque conclusion. They would go to Napoleon and talk him out of his purpose. Barras had already sent Bottot, his private secretary, to see if anything could be arranged. Napoleon had sternly said, “Tell that man I have done with him.” He had also addressed the astonished Bottot a short harangue intended for publication: “What have you done with that France I left so brilliant? In place of victory, I find defeat”--and so forth. Gohier and Moulins were civilly treated, but their protests were set aside. They reminded Napoleon of the constitution, and of the oath of allegiance. He demanded their resignations. They refused, and continued to remonstrate. At this moment word came that Santerre was rousing the section St. Antoine. Napoleon said to Moulins, “Send word to your friend Santerre that at the first movement St. Antoine makes, I will have him shot.” No impression having been made by the Directors on Napoleon, nor by him on them, they went back to their temporary prison in the Luxembourg. Thus far there had been no hitch in the Bonaparte programme. The alleged Jacobin plot nowhere showed head; the Napoleonic plot was in full and peaceable possession. There was no great excitement in Paris, no unusual crowds collecting anywhere. Proclamation had been issued to put the people at ease, and the attitude of the public was one of curiosity and expectancy, rather than alarm. Not a single man had rallied to the defence of the Directory. Their own guard had quietly departed to swell the ranks which were shouting, “Hurrah for Bonaparte!” Victor Grand, aide-de-camp to Barras, did indeed wait upon that forlorn Director at seven o’clock in the morning of the 18th, and report to him that one veteran of the guards was still at his post. “I am here alone,” said the old soldier; “all have left.”