Mlle. Fouchette Part 21

"It is the rentree of the Chambers," he answered.

"Oh," she said, "is that it?"

But she knew no more now than she had known before. Presently her curiosity again got the better of her timidity.

"Where are they going, monsieur?"

"They don't know, mademoiselle. Palais Bourbon, Place de la Concorde,--anywhere it happens to be lively enough to suit. But where have you been, mademoiselle, to not know,--in the country?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"And where are you going?"

"Place de la Concorde."

"Don't do it, little one,--don't you do it! It is not a place for a mite like you on such a day. Take my advice,--go anywhere else."

"I'm going to the Place de la Concorde, monsieur," she responded, quite stiffly.

When she reached the great plaza, however, she found it practically deserted. The usual throngs of carriages were pa.s.sing to and fro.

Immense black crowds blocked the Rue Royale at the Madeleine and in the opposite direction in the vicinity of the Palais Bourbon across the river. These crowds appeared to be held at bay by the cordons of police agents, who kept the Place de la Concorde clear and pedestrians moving lively in the intersecting streets.

Fouchette hopped nimbly off the steps of the omnibus she had taken at le Chatelet, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of a gang of hilarious students from the Latin Quarter, who recognized in her the "tenderfoot."

The Parisienne always leaves the omnibus steps with her back to the horses. This keeps American visitors standing around looking for a mishap which never happens; for the Parisienne is an expert equilibrist and can perform this feat while the vehicle is at full speed, not only with safety but with an airy grace that is often charming.

But Fouchette did not mind the laughter; she had found a good place from which to view whatever was to be seen. She did not have to wait long.

"a bas le sabre!" shouted a man.

"a bas les traitres!" yelled the students in unison.

One of the latter leaped at the man and felled him with a blow.

The frantic crowd of young men attempted to jump upon this victim of public opinion, but as others rushed at the same time to his rescue, all came together in a tumultuous, struggling heap.

The angry combatants surged this way and that,--the score soon became an hundred, the hundred became a thousand. It was a mystery whence these turbulent elements sprang, so quickly did the mob gather strength.

The original offender got away in the confusion. But the struggle went on, accompanied by shouts, curses, and groans. One platoon of police agents charged down upon the fighters, then another platoon.

Friends struck friends in sheer excess of fury. The momentarily swelling roar of the combat reverberated in the Rue Royale and echoed and re-echoed from the garden of the Tuileries.

The police agents struggled in vain. They were unable to penetrate beyond the outer rows of the mob. And these turned and savagely a.s.saulted the agents.

Then the ma.s.sive grilles of the Tuileries swung upon their hinges and a squadron of cuira.s.siers slowly trotted into the Place de la Concorde. They swept gracefully into line. A harsh, rasping sound of steel, a rattle of breastplates as the sabres twinkled in the sunshine, and the column moved down upon the snarling horde of human tigers.

Brave when it was a single unarmed man, the mob broke and ran like frightened sheep at the sight of the advancing cavalry.

In the mean time myriads of omnibuses, vans, carriages, and vehicles of all descriptions, having been blocked by a similar mob in the narrow Rue Royale and at the Pont de la Concorde in the other direction, now became tangled in an apparently inextricable ma.s.s in the middle square.

The individual members of the crowd broke for this cover, while the agents dashed among them to make arrests. Men scrambled under omnibuses and wagons, leaped through carriages, dodged between wheels, climbed over horses, crept on their hands and knees beneath vans.

Fouchette ran like a rabbit, but between the rush of police and scattering of the mob she was sorely hustled. She finally sprang into an open voiture in the jam, and wisely remained there in spite of the driver's furious gesticulations.

"This way!" cried a stalwart young student to his fleeing companions.

The agents were hot upon them.

Fouchette saw that they were covered with dirt, and one was hatless.

And this one glared at her as he dodged beneath the horse.

The next vehicle was pulled up short, as if to close the narrow pa.s.sage, whereat the hatless man shook his fist at the driver and cursed him.

"Vive la liberte!" retorted the driver.

"So! We'll give you liberty, you cur!" and the hatless man called to his nearest companion, "Over with him!"

The two seized the light vehicle and overturned it as if it were an empty basket. The driver pitched forward, sprawling, to the asphalt.

Seeing which the wary driver of the voiture in which Fouchette was seated turned and called to her behind his hand,--

"Keep your seat, mademoiselle! It's all right!"

He was terrified lest his carriage should follow the fate of his neighbor's. But the young men merely compelled him to whip up and keep the lines closed, and with this moving barricade they trotted along secure from present a.s.sault. Fouchette could have touched the nearest student. She was so frightened that the coachman's admonition was quite unnecessary. She could not have stirred.

"Jean!" said the hatless man to the other, who was so close, "you saw Lerouge there?"

"See him! I was near enough to punch him!"

"Did you----"

"Ah!" There was a quaver in his voice.

"I understand, my friend."

"But I can't understand Lerouge," said the young man called Jean.

"Don't be afraid, mademoiselle," he added, speaking to Fouchette rea.s.suringly. "Our friends the agents----"

"Oh, there they come, monsieur!" she cried.

"Pardieu!" exclaimed the hatless. "We're caught!"

A big van loaded with straw blocked the way. Behind it skulked a whole platoon of blue uniforms. The fugitives hesitated for a second or two.

"Over with it!" shouted the hatless young man, at the same moment appropriating a deserted headpiece.

"Down with the agents!"

A dozen stalwart young men seized the big wheels. The top-heavy load wavered an instant, then went over with a simultaneous swish and a yell.