6 blowing up!"
As a matter of fact, that was where the cartridges were. It was said
that at Meudon traces had been found of the same explosive as had been
used in bombs against the Emperor during the first days of May (a plot
that had probably been hatched by the police). The perpetrator,
however,--doubtless for good reasons--was not discovered.
Whatever vanity there was about old Philarete Chasles left him
altogether during this critical time, which seemed to make good men
better still. His niece, too, who used to be loud-voiced and conceited,
was quite a different person. One day that I was at their house at
Meudon, she sat in a corner for a long time crying quietly. Out there,
they were all feverishly anxious, could not rest, craved, partly to hear
the latest news, partly to feel the pulse of Paris. One day after
dinner, Chasles invited me to go into town with him, and when we arrived
he took a carriage and drove about with me for two hours observing the
prevailing mood. We heard countless anecdotes, most of them apocryphal,
but reflecting the beliefs of the moment: The Empress had sent three
milliards (!) in French gold to the Bank of England. The Emperor, who
was jealous of Macmahon since the latter had rescued him at Magenta, had
taken the command of the Turcos from the Marshal, although the latter
had said in the Council of War: "The Turcos must be given to me, they
will not obey anyone else.
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