The Forty-Five Guardsmen | Page 2

hedges, which, outside the barrier, bordered each side of the road.

There was a great crowd collected there, for numbers of peasants and
other people had been stopped at the gates on their way into Paris. They
were arriving by three different roads--from Montreuil, from Vincennes,
and from St. Maur; and the crowd was growing more dense every
moment. Monks from the convent in the neighborhood, women seated
on pack-saddles, and peasants in their carts, and all, by their questions
more or less pressing, formed a continual murmur, while some voices
were raised above the others in shriller tones of anger or complaint.
There were, besides this mass of arrivals, some groups who seemed to
have come from the city. These, instead of looking at the gate, fastened
their gaze on the horizon, bounded by the Convent of the Jacobins, the
Priory of Vincennes, and the Croix Faubin, as though they were
expecting to see some one arrive. These groups consisted chiefly of
bourgeois, warmly wrapped up, for the weather was cold, and the
piercing northeast wind seemed trying to tear from the trees all the few
remaining leaves which clung sadly to them.
Three of these bourgeois were talking together--that is to say, two
talked and one listened, or rather seemed to listen, so occupied was he
in looking toward Vincennes. Let us turn our attention to this last. He
was a man who must be tall when he stood upright, but at this moment
his long legs were bent under him, and his arms, not less long in
proportion, were crossed over his breast. He was leaning against the
hedge, which almost hid his face, before which he also held up his hand
as if for further concealment. By his side a little man, mounted on a
hillock, was talking to another tall man who was constantly slipping off
the summit of the same hillock, and at each slip catching at the button
of his neighbor's doublet.
"Yes, Maitre Miton," said the little man to the tall one, "yes, I tell you
that there will be 100,000 people around the scaffold of
Salcede--100,000 at least. See, without counting those already on the
Place de Greve, or who came there from different parts of Paris, the
number of people here; and this is but one gate out of sixteen."
"One hundred thousand! that is much, Friard," replied M. Miton. "Be
sure many people will follow my example, and not go to see this

unlucky man quartered, for fear of an uproar."
"M. Miton, there will be none, I answer for it. Do you not think so,
monsieur?" continued he, turning to the long-armed man.--"What?"
said the other, as though he had not heard.
"They say there will be nothing on the Place de Greve to-day."
"I think you are wrong, and that there will be the execution of Salcede."
"Yes, doubtless: but I mean that there will be no noise about it."
"There will be the noise of the blows of the whip, which they will give
to the horses."
"You do not understand: by noise I mean tumult. If there were likely to
be any, the king would not have had a stand prepared for him and the
two queens at the Hotel de Ville."
"Do kings ever know when a tumult will take place?" replied the other,
shrugging his shoulders with an air of pity.
"Oh, oh!" said M. Miton; "this man talks in a singular way. Do you
know who he is, compere?"
"No."
"Then why do you speak to him? You are wrong. I do not think he likes
to talk."
"And yet it seems to me," replied Friard, loud enough to be heard by
the stranger, "that one of the greatest pleasures in life is to exchange
thoughts."
"Yes, with those whom we know well," answered M. Miton.
"Are not all men brothers, as the priests say?"
"They were primitively; but in times like ours the relationship is

singularly loosened. Talk low, if you must talk, and leave the stranger
alone."
"But I know you so well, I know what you will reply, while the stranger
may have something new to tell me."
"Hush! he is listening."
"So much the better; perhaps he will answer. Then you think,
monsieur," continued he, turning again toward him, "that there will be a
tumult?"
"I did not say so."
"No; but I believe you think so."
"And on what do you found your surmise, M. Friard?"
"Why, he knows me!"
"Have I not named you two or three times?" said Miton.
"Ah! true. Well, since he knows me, perhaps he will answer. Now,
monsieur, I believe you agree with me, or else would be there, while,
on the contrary, you are here."
"But you, M. Friard, since you think the