“Listen to the noisy old idiots!” exclaimed the soldier.  “They think they’re at the witches’ Sabbath, but I don’t see their broomsticks.”

“Young man, young man!” said a citizen, with a sad air, “jest not upon such subjects in the open air, or, in such a time as this, the wind may become gushing flames and destroy you.”

“Pooh!  I laugh at your exorcists!” returned the soldier; “my name is Grand-Ferre, and I’ve got here a better exorciser than any of you can show.”

And significantly grasping the handle of his rapier in one hand, with the other he twisted up his blond moustache, as he looked fiercely around; but meeting no glance which returned the defiance of his own, he slowly withdrew, left foot foremost, and strolled along the dark, narrow streets with all the reckless nonchalance of a young soldier who has just donned his uniform, and a profound contempt for all who wear not a military coat.

In the meantime eight or ten of the more substantial and rational inhabitants traversed in a body, slowly and silently, the agitated throng; they seemed overwhelmed with amazement and distress at the agitation and excitement they witnessed everywhere, and as each new instance of the popular frenzy appeared, they exchanged glances of wonder and apprehension.  Their mute depression communicated itself to the working-people, and to the peasants who had flocked in from the adjacent country, and who, all sought a guide for their opinions in the faces of the principal townsmen, also for the most part proprietors of the surrounding districts.  They saw that something calamitous was on foot, and resorted accordingly to the only remedy open to the ignorant and the beguiled—­apathetic resignation.

Yet, in the character of the French peasant is a certain scoffing finesse of which he makes effective use, sometimes with his equals, and almost invariably with his superiors.  He puts questions to power as embarrassing as are those which infancy puts to mature age.  He affects excessive humility, in order to confuse him whom he addresses with the very height of his isolated elevation.  He exaggerates the awkwardness of his manner and the rudeness of his speech, as a means of covering his real thoughts under the appearance of mere uncouthness; yet, despite all his self-command, there is something in his air, certain fierce expressions which betray him to the close observer, who discerns in his sardonic smile, and in the marked emphasis with which he leans on his long staff, the hopes that secretly nourish his soul, and the aid upon which he ultimately relies.

One of the oldest of the peasants whom we have indicated came on vigorously, followed by ten or twelve young men, his sons and nephews, all wearing the broad-brimmed hat and the blue frock or blouse of the ancient Gauls, which the peasants of France still wear over their other garments, as peculiarly adapted to their humid climate and their laborious habits.