actually official, it was semi-official at all events; and we were obliged to await his return.  To give some colour to our delay, M. de Nion sent a fresh summons to Sidi Bousselam, pasha of Larrache, a clear-sighted and intelligent man, whom the Sultan had deputed to negotiate with us.  A fresh extension of time was granted.  I took advantage of it to get our consuls withdrawn, and went myself to Tangier to see to the sudden removal of our consul-general and his family.  If this had been attempted a few minutes later, the Moors would have tried to prevent it.  All the other French subjects and people under our protection, who had put off going on board our ships, were stopped, except one Jew, who rushed up at full speed, threw himself into the sea, and managed to come up with my boat.  I should add, that owing to the energetic remonstrances of all the other foreign representatives, and in particular the Neapolitan Consul, M. de Martino—­a clever and courageous young man who has since risen to the highest positions in Italy, and who had undertaken to look after our interests after our consuls had been withdrawn—­the embargo thus laid on our fellow-countrymen’s movements was of very short duration.

The departure of the French consuls made a considerable impression both on the Moorish leaders and on the foreign representatives, who took alarm at once.  The roadstead at Tangier was soon covered, in answer to their appeals, with foreign warships, Spanish, Danish, Swedish, &c.  The English men-of-war returned, and I brought back my own squadron.

But still the time went by, and Mr. Hay did not appear.  General Bugeaud, away on the frontier, was losing patience, and wrote me letter after letter, complaining of my tergiversation!” To which I replied, “Well, General, fire off your guns!  If you will begin the fighting I’ll follow your example at once.”  But the general turned a deaf ear to that.  He answered that pacific overtures which he could not well ignore were being made him on the frontier side, but that things could not go on as they were, that his troops were suffering from the heat, that they were fretting under their enforced inaction.  The long and the short of it was that he would not take the responsibility of the international complications that might arise out of overt hostilities in Morocco, and yet he was burning with the desire to throw himself upon the army lying in front of him and inflict a signal defeat on it.  While he neither urged me on nor tried to check me, diplomacy did its utmost to restrain my ardour.  The French charge d’affaires in London wrote to point out “the capital importance attached in this country (England) to the business you have in hand.  If it were to come to a blockade, an occupation of ports and of the coast, &c., I feel quite convinced that the relations between your Royal Highness and the British cruisers would keep the peace of the world in general in constant peril.”  And the tide kept rising and rising, higher and higher!  In other words, time was going by—­in inaction.  And some people were inclined to take inaction for impotence.