“The posters are working,” said one; “the train is on fire. When once the populace is roused, we can set them on whom we please.”
“I say,” replied the other man, “look over there. That Hercules, whose athletic form towers above the mob, was cue of the most frantic leaders when M. Hardy’s factory was destroyed.”
“To be sure he was; I know him again. Wherever mischief is to be done, you are sure to find those vagabonds.
“Now, take my advice, do not let us remain under this archway,” said the other man; “the wind is as cold as ice, and though I am cased in flannel—”
“You are right, the cholera is confoundedly impolite. Besides, everything is going on well here; I am likewise assured that the whole of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine is ready to rise in the republican cause; that will serve our ends, and our holy religion will triumph over revolutionary impiety. Let us rejoin Father d’Aigrigny.”
“Where shall we find him?”
“Near here, come—come.”
The two hastily disappeared.
The sun, beginning to decline, shed its golden rays upon the blackened sculptures of the porch of Notre-Dame, and upon its two massy towers, rising in imposing majesty against a perfectly blue sky, for during the fast few days, a north-east wind, dry and cold, had driven away the lightest cloud. A considerable number of people, as we have already stated, obstructed the approach to the Hospital; they crowded round the iron railings that protect the front of the building, behind which was stationed a detachment of infantry, the cries of “Death to the doctors!” becoming every moment more threatening. The people who thus vociferated. belonged to an idle, vagabond, and depraved populace—the dregs of the Paris mob; and (terrible spectacle!) the unfortunate beings who were forcibly carried through the midst of these hideous groups entered the Hospital, whilst the air resounded with hoarse clamors, and cries of “Death.” Every moment, fresh victims were brought along in litters, and on stretchers; the litters were frequently furnished with coarse curtains, and thus the sick occupants were concealed from the public gaze; but the stretchers, having no covering, the convulsive movements of the dying patients often thrust aside the sheet, and exposed to view their faces, livid as corpses. Far from inspiring with terror the wretches assembled round the Hospital, such spectacles became to them the signal for savage jests, and atrocious predictions upon the fate of these poor creatures, when once in the power of the doctors.