Sacred God, where are we to go to for grub and good lying to-night? What are ill-used men to do? SECOND SERVANT I trudge like the rest. All the true philosophers are gone, and the middling true are going. I made up my mind like the truest that ever was as soon as I heard the general alarm beat. THIRD SERVANT I stay here. No Allies are going to tickle our skins. The storm which roots--Dost know what a metaphor is, comrade? I brim with them at this historic time! SECOND SERVANT A weapon of war used by the Cossacks? THIRD SERVANT Your imagination will be your ruin some day, my man! It happens to be a weapon of wisdom used by me. My metaphor is one may'st have met with on the rare times when th'hast been in good society. Here it is: The storm which roots the pine spares the p--s--b--d. Now do you see? FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTS Good! Your teaching, friend, is as sound as true religion! We'll not go. Hearken to what's doing outside. [Carriages are heard moving. Servants go to the window and look down.] Lord, there's the Duchess getting in. Now the Mistress of the Wardrobe; now the Ladies of the Palace; now the Prefects; now the Doctors. What a time it takes! There are near a dozen berlines, as I am a patriot! Those other carriages bear treasure. How quiet the people are! It is like a funeral procession. Not a tongue cheers her! THIRD SERVANT Now there will be a nice convenient time for a little good victuals and drink, and likewise pickings, before the Allies arrive, thank Mother Molly! [From a distant part of the city bands are heard playing military marches. Guns next resound. Another servant rushes in.] FOURTH SERVANT Montmartre is being stormed, and bombs are falling in the Chaussee d'Antin! [Exit fourth servant.] THIRD SERVANT [pulling something from his hat] Then it is time for me to gird my armour on. SECOND SERVANT What hast there? [Third servant holds up a crumpled white cockade and sticks it in his hair. The firing gets louder.] FIRST AND SECOND SERVANTS Hast got another? THIRD SERVANT [pulling out more] Ay--here they are; at a price. [The others purchase cockades of third servant. A military march is again heard. Re-enter fourth servant.] FOURTH SERVANT The city has capitulated! The Allied sovereigns, so it is said, will enter in grand procession to-morrow: the Prussian cavalry first, then the Austrian foot, then the Russian and Prussian foot, then the Russian horse and artillery. And to cap all, the people of Paris are glad of the change. They have put a rope round the neck of the statue of Napoleon on the column of the Grand Army, and are amusing themselves with twitching it and crying “Strangle the Tyrant!” SECOND SERVANT Well, well! There's rich colours in this kaleidoscopic world! THIRD SERVANT