Margot, during all this, had recovered her wind and strength; the fire had singed her coat. All these unaccustomed shouts appeared greatly to amaze her, and Billot was obliged to restrain the efforts she now made to advance, for fear of trampling under foot some of the numerous spectators whom curiosity had drawn together before their doors to see the gate on fire, and as many curious people who were running from their doors towards the burning toll-house.
Billot went on pushing through the crowd, pulling Margot first to the right and then to the left, twisting and turning in every direction, until they reached the Boulevard; but having got thus far he was obliged to stop.
A procession was then passing, coming from the Bastille, and going towards the place called the Garde
Meuble, those two masses of stone which in those days formed a girdle which attached the centre of the city to its outworks.
This procession, which obstructed the whole of the Boulevard, was following a bier; on this bier were borne two busts,—the one veiled with black crape, the other crowned with flowers.
The bust covered with black crape was that of Necker, a minister who had not been disgraced, but dismissed. The one crowned with flowers was that of the Duke of Orleans, who had openly espoused at court the party of the Genevese economist.
Billot immediately inquired what was the meaning of this procession. He was informed that it was a popular homage paid to M. Necker and to his defender, the Duke of Orleans.
Billot had been born in a part of the country where the name of the Duke of Orleans had been venerated for a century and a half. Billot belonged to the new sect of philosophers, and consequently considered Monsieur Necker not only as a great minister, but as an apostle of humanity.
This was more than sufficient to excite Billot. He jumped off his horse, without being exactly aware of what he was about to do, shouting, “Long live the Duke of Orleans! long live Necker!” and then mingled with the crowd. Having once got into the thick of the throng, all personal liberty was at an end at once; as every one knows, the use of our free will at once ceases. We wish what the crowd wishes, we do what it does. Billot, moreover, allowed himself the more easily to be drawn into this movement, from being near the head of the procession.
The mob kept on vociferating most strenuously, “Long live Necker! no more foreign troops! Down with the foreign troops!”
Billot mingled his stentorian voice with all these voices. A superiority, be it of whatsoever nature it may, is always appreciated by the people. The Parisian of the suburbs, with his faint hoarse voice, enfeebled by inanition or worn out by drinking, duly appreciated the full, rich, and sonorous voice of Billot, and readily made way for him, so that without being too much elbowed, too much pushed about, too much pressed by the crowd, Billot at length managed to get close up to the bier.
About ten minutes after this, one of the bearers, whose enthusiasm had been greater than his strength, yielded his place to Billot.
As has been seen, the honest farmer had rapidly obtained promotion.
The day before he had been merely the propagator of the principles contained in Doctor Gilbert’s pamphlet, and now he had become one of the instruments of the great triumph of Necker and the Duke of Orleans.
But he had scarcely attained this post when an idea crossed his mind.
“What had become of Pitou,—what had become of
Margot?”
Though carefully bearing his portion of the bier, he gave a glance behind him, and by the light of the torches which accompanied the procession, by the light of the lamps which illuminated every window, he perceived in the midst of the procession a sort of ambulating eminence, formed of five or six men, who were gesticulating and shouting.
Amidst these gesticulations and shouts it was easy to distinguish the voice and recognize the long arms of his follower, Pitou. Pitou was doing all he could to protect Margot; but despite all his efforts Margot had been invaded. Margot no longer bore Billot and Pitou, a very honorable and sufficient burden for the poor animal.