printing-office. The principal door was shut, two sentinels guarded the
side door. Through this little door, which was ajar, he glanced into the
courtyard of the printing-office, and saw it filled with soldiers. The
soldiers were silent, no sound could be heard, but the glistening of
their bayonets could be seen. The passer-by surprised, drew nearer. One
of the sentinels thrust him rudely back, crying out, "Be off."

Like the _sergents de ville_ at the Prefecture of Police, the workmen had
been retained at the National Printing Office under plea of night-work.
At the same time that M. Hippolyte Prévost returned to the Legislative
Palace, the manager of the National Printing Office re-entered his
office, also returning from the Opéra Comique, where he had been to see
the new piece, which was by his brother, M. de St. Georges. Immediately
on his return the manager, to whom had come an order from the Elysée
during the day, took up a pair of pocket pistols, and went down into the
vestibule, which communicates by means of a few steps with the courtyard.
Shortly afterwards the door leading to the street opened, a _fiacre_
entered, a man who carried a large portfolio alighted. The manager went
up to the man, and said to him, "Is that you, Monsieur de Béville?"

"Yes," answered the man.

The _fiacre_ was put up, the horses placed in a stable, and the coachman
shut up in a parlor, where they gave him drink, and placed a purse in his
hand. Bottles of wine and louis d'or form the groundwork of this hind of
politics. The coachman drank and then went to sleep. The door of the
parlor was bolted.

The large door of the courtyard of the printing-office was hardly shut
than it reopened, gave passage to armed men, who entered in silence, and