De Flotte nudged me with his elbow, and whispered,—­

“Do you know Fialin?”

I answered,—­

“No.”

“Have you seen him?

“No.”

“Do you wish to see him?”

“No.”

“Look at him.”

I looked at him.

This man in truth was passing before us.  It was he who preceded the group of officers.  He came out of the Bank.  Had he been there to effect a new forced loan?  The people who were at the doors looked at him with curiosity, and without anger.  His entire bearing was insolent.  He turned from time to time to say a word to one of his followers.  This little cavalcade “pawed the ground” in the mist and in the mud.  Fialin had the arrogant air of a man who caracoles before a crime.  He gazed at the passers-by with a haughty look.  His horse was very handsome, and, poor beast, seemed very proud.  Fialin was smiling.  He had in his hand the whip that his face deserved.

He passed by.  I never saw the man except on this occasion.

De Flotte and Bancel did not leave me until they had seen me get into my vehicle.  My true-hearted coachman was waiting for me in the Rue de la Vrilliere.  He brought me back to No 15, Rue Richelieu.

CHAPTER XI.

THE BARRICADE OF THE RUE MESLAY

The first barricade of the Rue Saint Martin was erected at the junction of the Rue Meslay.  A large cart was overturned, placed across the street, and the roadway was unpaved; some flag-stones of the footway were also torn up.  This barricade, the advanced work of defence of the whole revolted street, could only form a temporary obstacle.  No portion of the piled-up stones was higher than a man.  In a good third of the barricade the stones did not reach above the knee.  “It will at all events be good enough to get killed in,” said a little street Arab who was rolling numerous flag-stones to the barricade.  A hundred combatants took up their position behind it.  Towards nine o’clock the movements of the troops gave warning of the attack.  The head of the column of the Marulaz Brigade occupied the corner of the street on the side of the boulevard.  A piece of artillery, raking the whole of the street, was placed in position before the Porte Saint Martin.  For some time both sides gazed on each other in that moody silence which precedes an encounter; the troops regarding the barricade bristling with guns, the barricade regarding the gaping cannon.  After a while the order for a general attack was given.  The firing commenced.  The first shot passed above the barricade, and struck a woman who was passing some twenty paces in the rear, full in the breast.  She fell, ripped open.  The fire became brisk without doing much injury to the barricade.  The cannon was too near; the bullets flew too high.

The combatants, who had not yet lost a man, received each bullet with a cry of “Long live the Republic!” but without firing.  They possessed few cartridges, and they husbanded them.  Suddenly the 49th regiment advanced in close column order.