But she lost herself in courtyards and staircases.  She was seeking her way somewhat discouraged, when she met the Abbe Maret.  She knew him.  She addressed him.  She told him the object of her expedition.  The Abbe Maret read the workman’s letter, and was seized with enthusiasm:  “This may save all,” said he.

He added, “Follow me, madam, I will introduce you.”

The Archbishop of Paris was in the room which adjoins his study.  The
Abbe Maret ushered Madame Arnaulde into the study, informed the
Archbishop, and a moment later the Archbishop entered.  Besides the Abbe
Maret, the Abbe Deguerry, the Cure of the Madeleine, was with him.

Madame Arnauld handed to M. Sibour the two letters of her husband and the workman.  The Archbishop read them, and remained thoughtful.

“What answer am I to take back to my husband?” asked Madame Arnauld.

“Madame,” replied the Archbishop, “it is too late.  This should have been done before the struggle began.  Now, it would be only to risk the shedding of more blood than perhaps has yet been spilled.”

The Abbe Deguerry was silent.  The Abbe Maret tried respectfully to turn the mind of his Bishop towards the grand effort unsoiled by the workman.  He spoke eloquently.  He laid great stress open this argument, that the appearance of the Archbishop would bring about a manifestation of the National Guard, and that a manifestation of the National Guard would compel the Elysee to draw back.

“No,” said the Archbishop, “you hope for the impossible.  The Elysee will not draw back now.  You believe that I should stop the bloodshed—­not at all; I should cause it to flow, and that in torrents.  The National Guard has no longer any influence.  If the legions appeared, the Elysee could crush the legions by the regiments.  And then, what is an Archbishop in the presence of the Man of the coup d’etat?  Where is the oath?  Where is the sworn faith?  Where is the Respect for Right?  A man does not turn back when he has made three steps in such a crime.  No!  No!  Do not hope.  This man will do all.  He has struck the Law in the hand of the Representatives.  He will strike God in mine.”

And he dismissed Madame Arnauld with the look of a man overwhelmed with sorrow.

Let us do the duty of the Historian.  Six weeks afterwards, in the Church of Notre Dame, some one was singing the Te Deum in honor of the treason of December—­thus making God a partner in a crime.

This man was the Archbishop Sibour.

CHAPTER VIII.

MOUNT VALERIEN

Of the two hundred and thirty Representatives prisoners at the barracks of the Quai d’Orsay fifty-three had been sent to Mount Valerien.  They loaded them in four police vans.  Some few remained who were packed in an omnibus.  MM.  Benoist d’Azy, Falloux, Piscatory, Vatimesail, were locked in the wheeled cells, as also Eugene Sue and Esquiros.  The worthy M. Gustave de Beaumont, a great upholder of the cellular system, rode in a cell vehicle.  It is not an undesirable thing, as we have said, that the legislator should taste of the law.