M. de Varnetot answered: 

“Doctor, I am the mayor of Canneville, duly appointed, and I shall remain mayor of Canneville until I have been dismissed by a decree from my superiors.  As mayor, I am in my place in the townhall, and here I stay.  Anyhow, just try to get me out.”

He closed the window.

The commandant returned to his troop.  But before giving any information, eyeing Lieutenant Picart from head to foot, he exclaimed: 

“You’re a great one, you are!  You’re a fine specimen of manhood!  You’re a disgrace to the army!  I degrade you.”

“I don’t give a——!”

He turned away and mingled with a group of townspeople.

Then the doctor hesitated.  What could he do?  Attack?  But would his men obey orders?  And then, did he have the right to do so?

An idea struck him.  He ran to the telegraph office, opposite the town-hall, and sent off three telegrams: 

To the new republican government in Paris.

To the new prefect of the Seine-Inferieure, at Rouen.

To the new republican sub-prefect at Dieppe.

He explained the situation, pointed out the danger which the town would run if it should remain in the hands of the royalist mayor; offered his faithful services, asked for orders and signed, putting all his titles after his name.

Then he returned to his battalion, and, drawing ten francs from his pocket, he cried:  “Here, my friends, go eat and drink; only leave me a detachment of ten men to guard against anybody’s leaving the town-hall.”

But ex-Lieutenant Picart, who had been talking with the watchmaker, heard him; he began to laugh, and exclaimed:  “By Jove, if they come out, it’ll give you a chance to get in.  Otherwise I can see you standing out there for the rest of your life!”

The doctor did not reply, and he went to luncheon.

In the afternoon, he disposed his men about the town as though they were in immediate danger of an ambush.

Several times he passed in front of the town-hall and of the church without noticing anything suspicious; the two buildings looked as though empty.

The butcher, the baker and the druggist once more opened up their stores.

Everybody was talking about the affair.  If the emperor were a prisoner, there must have been some kind of treason.  They did not know exactly which of the republics had returned to power.

Night fell.

Toward nine o’clock, the doctor, alone, noiselessly approached the entrance of the public building, persuaded that the enemy must have gone to bed; and, as he was preparing to batter down the door with a pick-axe, the deep voice of a sentry suddenly called: 

“Who goes there?”

And M. Massarel retreated as fast as his legs could carry him.

Day broke without any change in the situation.

Armed militia occupied the square.  All the citizens had gathered around this troop awaiting developments.  Even neighboring villagers had come to look on.