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"Down with the traitors!" shouted Carini and Montanelli.
"Down with the Dictator! Down with the traitors!" repeated a gallant
young man with whom we were not acquainted, and who was sitting next to
Carini.
With the exception of this young man, the whole omnibus seemed seized
with terror!
"Hold your tongues!" exclaimed these poor frightened people; "you will
cause us all to be massacred." One, still more terrified, lowered the
window, and began to shout to the soldiers, "Long live Prince Napoléon!
Long live the Emperor!"
There were five of us, and we overpowered this cry by our persistent
protest, "Down with Louis Bonaparte! Down with the traitors!"
The soldiers listened in gloomy silence. A corporal turned with a
threatening air towards us, and shook his sword. The crowd looked on in
bewilderment.
What passed within me at that moment? I cannot tell! I was in a
whirlwind. I had at the same time yielded to a calculation, finding the
opportunity good, and to a burst of rage, finding the encounter insolent.
A woman cried out to us from the pavement, "You will get yourselves cut
to pieces." I vaguely imagined that some collision was about to ensue,
and that, either from the crowd or from the Army, the spark would fly
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