sought to find the cause of this, but was unable to discover it until old

Cornemuse revealed it to him.
"I have proofs," sighed the monk of Conils, "that the Duke of Ampoule, the

treasurer of the Dracophils, has brought property in Porpoisia with the funds
that he received for the propaganda."

The party wanted money. Prince des Boscenos had lost his portfolio in a brawl
and he was reduced to painful expedients which were repugnant to his impetuous

character. The Viscountess Olive was expensive. Cornemuse advised that the
monthly allowance of that lady should be diminished.

"She is very useful to us," objected the pious Agaric.
"Undoubtedly," answered Cornemuse, "but she does us an injury by ruining us."

A schism divided the Dracophils. Misunderstandings reigned in their councils.
Some wished that in accordance with the policy of M. Bigourd and the pious

Agaric, they should carry on the design of reforming the Republic. Others,
wearied by their long constraint, had resolved to proclaim the Dragon's crest

and swore to conquer beneath that sign.
The latter urged the advantage of a clear situation and the impossibility of

making a pretence much longer, and in truth, the public began to see whither
the agitation was tending and that the Emiral's partisans wanted to destroy

the very foundations of the Republic.
A report was spread that the prince was to land at La Cirque and make his

entry into Alca on a green horse.
These rumours excited the fanatical monks, delighted the poor nobles,

satisfied the rich Jewish ladies, and put hope in the hearts of the small
traders. But very few of them were inclined to purchase these benefits at the

price of a social catastrophe and the overthrow of the public credit; and
there were fewer still who would have risked their money, their peace, their

liberty, or a single hour from their pleasures in the business. On the other
hand, the workmen held themselves ready, as ever, to give a day's work to the

Republic, and a strong resistance was being formed in the suburbs.
"The people are with us," the pious Agaric used to say.

However, men, women, and children, when leaving their factories, used to shout
with one voice:

A bas Chatillon!
Hou! Hou! la calotte!

As for the government, it showed the weakness, indecision, flabbiness, and
heedlessness common to all governments, and from which none has ever departed

without falling into arbitrariness and violence. In three words it knew
nothing, wanted nothing, and would do nothing. Formose, shut in his

presidential palace, remained blind, dumb, deaf, huge, invisible, wrapped up
in his pride as in an eider-down.

Count Olive advised the Dracophils to make a last appeal for funds and to
attempt a great stroke while Alca was still in a ferment.

An executive committee, which he himself had chosen, decided to kidnap the
members of the Chamber of Deputies, and considered ways and means.

The affair was fixed for the twenty-eighth of July. On that day the sun rose
radiantly over the city. In front of the legislative palace women passed to

market with their baskets; hawkers cried their peaches, pears, and grapes; cab
horses with their noses in their bags munched their hay. Nobody expected

anything, not because the secret had been kept but because it met with nothing
but unbelievers. Nobody believed in a revolution, and from this fact we may

conclude that nobody desired one. About two o'clock the deputies began to
pass, few and unnoticed, through the side-door of the palace. At three o'clock

a few groups of badly dressed men had formed. At half past three black masses
coming from the adjacent streets spread over Revolution Square. This vast

expanse was soon covered by an ocean of soft hats, and the crowd of
demonstrators, continually increased by sight-seers, having crossed the

bridge, struck its dark wave against the walls of the legislative enclosure.
Cries, murmurs, and songs went up to the impassive sky. "It is Chatillon we

want!" "Down with the Deputies!" "Down with the Republicans!" "Death to the
Republicans!" The devoted band of Dracophils, led by Prince des Boscenos,

struck up the august canticle:
Vive Crucho,

Vaillant et sage,
Plein de courage

Des le berceau!
Behind the wall silence alone replied.

This silence and the absence of guards encouraged and at the same time
frightened the crowd. Suddenly a formidable voice cried out:

"Attack!"
And Prince des Boscenos was seen raising his gigantic form to the top of the

wall, which was covered with barbs and iron spikes. Behind him rushed his
companions, and the people followed. Some hammered against the wall to make

holes in it; others endeavoured to tear down the spikes and to pull out the
barbs. These defences had given way in places and some of the invaders had

stripped the wall and were sitting astride on the top. Prince des Boscenos was
waving an immense green flag. Suddenly the crowd wavered and from it came a

long cry of terror. The police and the Republican carabineers issuing out of
all the entrances of the palace formed themselves into a column beneath the

wall and in a moment it was cleared of its besiegers. After a long moment of
suspense the noise of arms was heard, and the police charged the crowd with

fixed bayonets. An instant afterwards and on the deserted square strewn with
hats and walking-sticks there reigned a sinister silence. Twice again the

Dracophils attempted to form, twice they were repulsed. The rising was
conquered. But Prince des Boscenos, standing on the wall of the hostile

palace, his flag in his hand, still repelled the attack of a whole brigade. He
knocked down all who approached him. At last he, too, was thrown down, and

fell on an iron spike, to which he remained hooked, still clasping the
standard of the Draconides.

On the following day the Ministers of the Republic and the Members of
Parliament determined to take energetic measures. In vain, this time, did

President Formose attempt to evade his responsibilities. The government
discussed the question of depriving Chatillon of his rank and dignities and of

indicting him before the High Court as a conspirator, an enemy of the public
good, a traitor, etc.

At this news the Emiral's old companions in arms, who the very evening before
had beset him with their adulations, made no effort to conceal their joy. But

Chatillon remained popular with the middle classes of Alca and one still heard
the hymn of the liberator sounding in the streets, "It is Chatillon we want."

The Ministers were embarrassed. They intended to indict Chatillon before the
High Court. But they knew nothing; they remained in that total ignorance

reserved for those who govern men. They were incapable of advancing any grave
charges against Chatillon. They could supply the prosecution with nothing but

the ridiculous lies of their spies. Chatillon's share in the plot and his
relations with Prince Crucho remained the secret of the thirty thousand

Dracophils. The Ministers and the Deputies had suspicions and even
certainties, but they had no proofs. The Public Prosecutor said to the

Minister of justice: "Very little is needed for a political prosecution! but I
have nothing at all and that is not enough." The affair made no progress. The

enemies of the Republic were triumphant.
On the eighteenth of September the news ran in Alca that Chatillon had taken

flight. Everywhere there was surprise and astonishment. People doubted, for
they could not understand.

This is what had happened: One day as the brave Under-Emiral Vulcanmould
happened, as if by chance, to go into the office of M. Barbotan, the Minister

of Foreign Affairs, he remarked with his usual frankness:
"M. Barbotan, your colleagues do not seem to me to be up to much; it is

evident that they have never commanded a ship. That fool Chatillon gives them
a deuced bad fit of the shivers."

The Minister, in sign of denial, waved his paper-knife in the air above his
desk.

"Don't deny it," answered Vulcanmould. "You don't know how to get rid of
Chatillon. You do not dare to indict him before the High Court because you are

not sure of being able to bring forward a strong enough charge. Bigourd will
defend him, and Bigourd is a clever advocate. . . . You are right, M.

Barbotan, you are right. It would be a dangerous trial."
"Ah! my friend," said the Minister, in a careless tone, "if you knew how

satisfied we are. . . . I receive the most reassuring news from my prefects.
The good sense of the Penguins will do justice to the intrigues of this

mutinous soldier. Can you suppose for a moment that a great people, an
intelligent, laborious people, devoted to liberal institutions which. . ."

Vulcanmould interrupted with a great sigh:
"Ah! If I had time to do it I would relieve you of your difficulty. I would