Then We Saw Theatres, The Port St. Denis, Port St. Martin, The Site Of
The Bastille, And The Most Gay, Beautiful, And Bustling Boulevards Of
The Metropolis.
As we were proceeding along the Boulevard des Italiens, I saw the
street beginning to line with people, the cabs and carriages drawing
to either side and stopping; police officers commanding, directing,
people running, pushing, looking this way and that.
"_Qu' y
a-t-il?_" said I, standing up by the driver - "What's the matter?"
"The emperor is coming," said he.
"Well," said I, "draw to one side, and turn a little, so that we can
see."
He did so, and H. and I both stood up, looking round. We saw several
outriders in livery, on the full trot, followed by several carriages.
They came very fast, the outriders calling to the people to get out of
the way. In the first carriage sat the emperor and the empress - he,
cold, stiff, stately, and homely; she, pale, beautiful, and sad. They
rode not two rods from us. There was not a hat taken off, not a single
shout, not a "_Vive l'Empereur_? Without a single token of
greeting or applause, he rode through the ever-forming, ever-dissolving
avenue of people - the abhorred, the tolerated tyrant." Why do they not
cry out?" I said to the coachman, "Why do they not cry, '_Vive
l'Empereur_'?" A most expressive shrug was the answer, and "I do
not know. I suppose, because they do not choose."
Thursday, June 16.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 195 of 455
Words from 51775 to 52029
of 120793
