“Down with the Cholera!” “Short and sweet!” “Laugh away, laugh always!” “We’ll collar the Cholera!” “Love forever!” “Wine forever!” “Come if you dare, old terror!”

There was really such audacious gayety in this masquerade, that the greater number of the spectators, at the moment when it crossed the square, in the direction of the eating-house, where dinner was waiting, applauded it loudly and repeatedly.  This sort of admiration, which courage, however mad and blind, almost always inspires, appeared to others (a small number, it must be confessed) a kind of defiance to the wrath of heaven; and these received the procession with angry murmurs.  This extraordinary spectacle, and the different impressions it produced, were too remote from all customary facts to admit of a just appreciation.  We hardly know if this daring bravado was deserving of praise or blame.

Besides, the appearance of those plagues, which from age to age decimate the population of whole countries, has almost always been accompanied by a sort of mental excitement, which none of those who have been spared by the contagion can hope to escape.  It is a strange fever of the mind, which sometimes rouses the most stupid prejudices and the most ferocious passions, and sometimes inspires, on the contrary, the most magnificent devotion, the most courageous actions—­with some, driving the fear of death to a point of the wildest terror—­with others, exciting the contempt of life to express itself in the most audacious bravadoes.  Caring little for the praise or blame it might deserve, the masquerade arrived before the eating-house, and made its entry in the midst of universal acclamations.  Everything seemed to combine to give full effect to this strange scene, by the opposition of the most singular contrasts.  Thus the tavern, in which was to be held this extraordinary feast, being situated at no great distance from the antique cathedral, and the gloomy hospital, the religious anthems of the ancient temple, the cries of the dying, and the bacchanalian songs of the banqueteers, must needs mingle, and by turns drown one another.  The maskers now got down from their chariot, and from their horses, and went to take their places at the repast, which was waiting for them.  The actors in the masquerade are at table in the great room of the tavern.  They are joyous, noisy, even riotous.  Yet their gayety has a strange tone, peculiar to itself.

Sometimes, the most resolute involuntarily remember that their life is at stake in this mad and audacious game with destiny.  That fatal thought is rapid as the icy fever-shudder, which chills you in an instant; therefore, from time to time, an abrupt silence, lasting indeed only for a second, betrays these passing emotions which are almost immediately effaced by new bursts of joyful acclamation, for each one says to himself:  “No weakness! my chum and my girl are looking at me!”