The Deputies walk in in a body. Guizot is not there: he passed by
just now in full ministerial costume. Presently little Thiers saunters
back: what a clear, broad sharp-eyed face the fellow has, with his gray
hair cut down so demure! A servant passes, pushing through the crowd a
shabby wheel-chair. It has just brought old Moncey the Governor of the
Invalids, the honest old man who defended Paris so stoutly in 1814. He
has been very ill, and is worn down almost by infirmities: but in his
illness he was perpetually asking, "Doctor, shall I live till the 15th?
Give me till then, and I die contented." One can't help believing that
the old man's wish is honest, however one may doubt the piety of another
illustrious Marshal, who once carried a candle before Charles X. in a
procession, and has been this morning to Neuilly to kneel and pray at
the foot of Napoleon's coffin. He might have said his prayers at home,
to be sure; but don't let us ask too much: that kind of reserve is not a
Frenchman's characteristic.
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