To every word he says, the men but oppose the one cry: "Vive l'Empereur!" The Comte de Cambray turns in despair to M. de St. Genis, who is a captain of artillery and whose men had hitherto been supposed to be tried and loyal royalists. "If the men won't fire, Maurice," asks the Comte in despair, "cannot the officers at least fire the first shot?" "M. le Comte," replies St. Genis through set teeth, for his heart was filled with wrath and shame at the defection of his men, "the gunners have declared that if the officers shoot, the men will shatter them to pieces with their own batteries." The crowds outside the gate itself are swelling visibly. They press in from every side toward the city loudly demanding the surrender of the town. "Open the gates! open!" they shout, and their clamour becomes more insistent every moment. Already they have broken down the palisades which surround the military zone, they pour down the slopes against the gate. But the latter is heavy, and massive, studded with iron, stoutly resisting axe or pick. "Open!" they cry. "Open! in the Emperor's name!" They are within hailing distance of the soldiers on the ramparts: "What price your plums?" they shout gaily to the gunners. "Quite cheap," retort the latter with equal gaiety, "but there's no danger of the Emperor getting any." The women sing the old couplet: "Bon! Bon! Napoléon Va rentrer dans sa maison!" and the soldiers on the ramparts take up the refrain: "Nous allons voir le grand Napoléon Le vainqueur de toutes les nations!" "What can we do, M. le Comte?" says Général Marchand at last. "We shall have to give in." "I'll not stay and see it," replies the Comte. "I should die of shame." Even while the two men are talking and discussing the possibilities of an early surrender, Napoleon himself has forced his way through the tumultuous throng of his supporters, and accompanied by Victor de Marmont and Colonel de la Bédoyère he advances as far as the gate which still stands barred defiantly against him. "I command you to open this gate!" he cries aloud. Colonel Roussille, who is in command, replies defiantly: "I only take orders from the General himself." "He is relieved of his command," retorts Napoleon. "I know my duty," insists Roussille. "I only take orders from the General." Victor de Marmont, intoxicated with his own enthusiasm, maddened with rage at sight of St. Genis, whose face is just then thrown into vivid light by the glare of the torches, cries wildly: "Soldiers of the Emperor, who are being forced to resist him, turn on those treacherous officers of yours, tear off their epaulettes, I say!"