New Orleans was in that state of suppressed excitement which, in later days, a frequent need of reassuring the outer world has caused to be described by the phrase “never more peaceable.”  Raoul perceived it before he had left the shop twenty paces behind.  By the time he reached the first corner he was in the swirl of the popular current.  He enjoyed it like a strong swimmer.  He even drank of it.  It was better than wine and music mingled.

“Twelve weeks next Thursday, and no sign of re-cession!” said one of two rapid walkers just in front of him.  Their talk was in the French of the province.

“Oh, re-cession!” exclaimed the other angrily.  “The cession is a reality.  That, at least, we have got to swallow.  Incredulity is dead.”

The first speaker’s feelings could find expression only in profanity.

“The cession—­we wash our hands of it!” He turned partly around upon his companion, as they hurried along, and gave his hands a vehement dry washing.  “If Incredulity is dead, Non-participation reigns in its stead, and Discontent is prime minister!” He brandished his fist as they turned a corner.

“If we must change, let us be subjects of the First Consul!” said one of another pair whom Raoul met on a crossing.

There was a gathering of boys and vagabonds at the door of a gun-shop.  A man inside was buying a gun.  That was all.

A group came out of a “coffee-house.”  The leader turned about upon the rest: 

“Ah, bah! cette Amayrican libetty!”

“See! see! it is this way!” said another of the number, taking two others by their elbows, to secure an audience, “we shall do nothing ourselves; we are just watching that vile Congress.  It is going to tear the country all to bits!”

“Ah, my friend, you haven’t got the inside news,” said still another—­Raoul lingered to hear him—­“Louisiana is going to state her wants!  We have the liberty of free speech and are going to use it!”

His information was correct; Louisiana, no longer incredulous of her Americanization, had laid hold of her new liberties and was beginning to run with them, like a boy dragging his kite over the clods.  She was about to state her wants, he said.

“And her don’t-wants,” volunteered one whose hand Raoul shook heartily.  “We warn the world.  If Congress doesn’t take heed, we will not be responsible for the consequences!”

Raoul’s hatter was full of the subject.  As Mr. Innerarity entered, he was saying good-day to a customer in his native tongue, English, and so continued: 

“Yes, under Spain we had a solid, quiet government—­Ah!  Mr. Innerarity, overjoyed to see you!  We were speaking of these political troubles.  I wish we might see the last of them.  It’s a terrible bad mess; corruption to-day—­I tell you what—­it will be disruption to-morrow.  Well, it is no work of ours; we shall merely stand off and see it.”