The centre of Paris seemed to have retained its everyday appearance. People came and went, bought and sold, chatted and laughed as usual. In the Rue Montorgueil I heard a street organ. Only on nearing the Faubourg St. Antoine the phenomenon which I had already noticed on the previous evening became more and more apparent; solitude reigned, and a certain dreary peacefulness. We reached the Place de la Bastille. My driver stopped. "Go on," I said to him. CHAPTER II. FROM THE BASTILLE TO THE RUE DE COTTE The Place de la Bastille was at the same time empty and filled. Three regiments in battle array were there; not one passer-by. Four harnessed batteries were drawn up at the foot of the column. Here and there knots of officers talked together in a low voice,--sinister men. One of these groups, the principal, attracted my attention. That one was silent, there was no talking. There were several men on horseback; one in front of the others, in a general's uniform, with a hat surmounted with black feathers, behind this man were two colonels, and behind the colonels a party of _aides-de-camp_ and staff officers. This lace-trimmed company remained immovable, and as though pointing like a dog between the column and the entrance to the Faubourg. At a short distance from this group, spread out, and occupying the whole of the square, were the regiments drawn up and the cannon in their batteries. "My driver again stopped. "Go on," I said; "drive into the Faubourg." "But they will prevent us, sir." "We shall see." The truth was that they did not prevent us. The driver continued on his way, but hesitatingly, and at a walking pace. The appearance of a _fiacre_ in the square had caused some surprise, and the inhabitants began to come out of their houses. Several came up to my carriage. We passed by a group of men with huge epaulets. These men, whose tactics we understood later on, did not even appear to see us. The emotion which I had felt on the previous day before a regiment of cuirassiers again seized me. To see before me the assassins of the country, at a few steps, standing upright, in the insolence of a peaceful triumph, was beyond my strength: I could not contain myself. I drew out my sash. I held it in my hand, and putting my arm and head out of the window of the _fiacre_, and shaking the sash, I shouted,--