The gentlemen
rushed out of the adjoining _cafe_, the English calling for their
servants and horses, (many of whom, by the way, who had never
possessed any;) one of these _fainted_--no heart of oak was _he_, when
our ancient Briton, the commandant, Colonel Jones, again presented
himself, _vif et emporte_. The spectators exclaimed--"que cela venoit
de la trop rapide circulation de son sang." _N'importe_: the choleric
Colonel, blustering, restored us to comparative tranquillity, as he
brandished on high his sword, giving it an after-sweeping movement, as
if to _moissonner nos tetes_; my valiant compatriot extended on the
pavement was the only head in security. The Colonel commanded the
misled dragoons to return; and it appeared that they had encountered
some miscreants, disguised as British officers, who gave them a forged
official order to retreat "the battle being lost!" We descended
through our trap-door, and re-assured our friend the Comtesse, who
seemed to have received our intelligence (_en passant_) with as
perfect calmness as that in which lay her new-born babe.
To add to my discomfort, deep and loud were the murmurs on Sunday
against the Duke. The merchants said his Grace ought not to have
lingered in the _salons_ of amusement one instant after he had been
apprised that Napoleon had quitted Paris, whose gigantic strides all
Europe had experienced during many long years.
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