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me along the path of duty and honor. And now, my friends, the only guarantee that I ask of you is to join with me in crying, Long live the King!" And rising in his stirrups the Marshal Macdonald waved his hat in the air and shouted three times as loud as he could, "Vive le Roi!" Not a single voice joined him. The Marshal Macdonald shouted alone.

Well, what was to be done now? The troops had suddenly turned to stone. The Place Bellecour had become a square of sphinxes. The Marshal sent for the Count d'Artois, hoping, all reports to the contrary, that he would be received, if not with cordiality, with respect at least. His Royal Highness soon came followed by his staff, but there was the same stony silence. Then dismounting, the Marshal and the Count d'Artois walked down the lines, exhorting the troops, but the soldiers stood motionless, impassive and silent. There was a battalion of the Garde Imperiale on the right of the Place, and as they reached it the Count d'Artois went up to a vieux moustache" decorated with the Legion of Honor. It was Andre

Marceau.

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"Surely a brave soldier like you," said the Count d'Artois, placing his hand on Andre's shoulder, "will cry Vive le Roi!"

"No I won't!" said Andre bluntly. "I've only one cry, and that's Vive 1'Empereur!" And he shouted it out with all his might. In an instant it was taken up by regiment after regiment, and in the face of His Royal Highness the Count d'Artois, standing at the foot of the statue of his proud ancestor Louis le Grand, was hurled again and again that world-conquering shout, Vive 1'Empereur! The Count d'Artois

"Monsieur le Marechal,"

grew crimson with rage. said he, "it is as I told you. Nothing can be done with them. Send them away." There was therefore no march past, but the troops were sent at once to their barracks.

"We may be more successful with the officers, Monseigneur," said the Marshal. "I will try them by themselves. They may have felt some awkwardness before their men."

"Do what you can," said his Royal Highness. "I am going to see M. Girouette at the Hotel de Ville."

CHAPTER XXXII

Mayor Girouette

Manners with fortunes, humors turn with climes,
Tenets with books, and principles with times.
—POPE, Moral Essays.

THE Hotel de Ville at Lyons faced the Place des Terreaux, and on the morning of the 10th of March, 1815, the Mayor's study upon the second floor had as its occupants a stout gentleman with a very bald head who was busily engaged in writing at a desk, and a small black poodle which was stretched comfortably before the fireplace. The stout gentleman was no other than the most worshipful Mayor of Lyons, M. Jacques Girouette, and the black poodle was his dog Fidele.

Nothing was heard in the apartment save the crackling of the fire and the squeak of M. Girouette's pen as it ran rapidly over the paper. The worshipful Mayor was engaged in drawing up two proclamations, one of which, already nearly finished any lying beside him on the desk, began as follows: "Citizens of Lyons, the invader Bonaparte having been beaten back and the legitimate authority of our glorious sovereign Louis XVIII having been firmly established, it behooves us to show our loyalty to His Majesty." The other proclamation upon which the worthy Mayor was working had this inception: "Citizens of Lyons,

once more our august sovereign the Emperor Napoleon arrives in triumph! Let us rally round the tricolor, that glorious flag under which France has so often marched to victory."

From time to time the honorable M. Jacques scratched his head or pulled at the high black stock about his neck. The honorable M. Jacques was evidently in some perplexity, and well he might be, for here was a trying situation truly! With, on the one hand, a Most Christian King going but not yet gone, and on the other a Most Imperial Emperor coming but not yet come, what was the proper course to be pursued by a most prudent Mayor who desired to save his official head? Why, like the Austrian eagle, look both ways. And so, with a large and elegant white cockade on his hat and an elegant and large tricolored one in the drawer of his desk, M. Jacques Girouette, Mayor of Lyons, was prepared for any freak of for

tune.

Presently the door was opened and the gendarme Laserre appeared. "Monsieur le Maire," said he, "the Count des Cars brings you a message from His Royal Highness the Count d'Artois."

"Admit him instantly," cried Mayor Girouette, slipping into his desk the proclamation beginning "Once more our august sovereign the Emperor Napoleon." A moment later the Count des Cars entered, and the worthy Mayor, who had advanced to the centre of the apartment, made him a low bow.

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"Monsieur le Maire," said the Count des Cars, "His Royal Highness will be here shortly. He wishes to have a conference with you."

"I am entirely at the service of His Royal Highness," answered the Mayor, bowing again.

"Do you know the result of Marshal Macdonald's review of the troops?" inquired the Count.

"No, Monsieur."

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Well, they refuse to march against the rascal Bonaparte."

"The more fools they," said Mayor Girouette.

The noise of a carriage was heard before the Hotel de Ville, and the Count des Cars stepped to a window and looked out upon the Place. "His Royal Highness has come," he cried. And the Count and the Mayor hurried down the staircase.

For a few moments the Mayor's study was deserted, only the black poodle Fidele lay before the fire. Then Monsieur le Comte d'Artois entered, followed by the Mayor and the Count des Cars. Monsieur, aged and faded, was greatly changed from the dashing Count d'Artois of former days who played the part of Figaro to Marie Antoinette's Rosina in the "Barbier de Séville," and was the gayest of the gay among the brilliant cavaliers of Petit Trianon. Still he was rather tall and slim, and with his gold-laced uniform and blue ribbon was altogether the most presentable male member of the Bourbon family. He sat down in an armchair, while M. Jacques Girouette and the Count des Cars stood respectfully before him.

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'Monsieur le Maire," said he, in a tone that attempted to be gracious, "you have heard no doubt that the troops are not disposed to carry out our wishes. I have just come from reviewing them. They manifest a most unaccountable attachment to the Usurper, and in this emergency we must look to the good people of Lyons to do their duty to France and to the King. Can I rely upon you, Monsieur le Maire?"

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