different matter. An immense and excited crowd awaited our arrival,
shouting all manner of things. Then the carriage was seized upon by
people who looked drunk, but who were drunk with political passion
alone. It seems the town of Orgon was not reckoned to favour the regime
of 1830. So from every side I was greeted with shouts of "We are
Cavaillon's men! ... We've come down from the mountains so that you may
tell your papa there are no Carlists in Provence." And then they sang
the Marseillaise The horses were taken out of the carriage, the crowd
surrounded it, climbing on the steps, the wheels, the fore-carriage, the
roof. I was like a prisoner in a cage; all I could see out of the window
was the boots of the people who were sitting on the top. They sang all
the verses of the Marseillaise, and bawled between them. A gentleman
contrived to slip up to the carriage door, gave himself out to be the
mayor, and tried to rescue us, calling out: "Gentlemen, this really is
not decent behaviour." All he got for his pains was a shout of "What the
devil do we care about a mayor like you?" I don't know how long it would
have gone on, if a detachment of the battalion of Government workmen
quartered at Orgon, which had been sent for, had not come to our rescue.

Between Orgon and Marseilles we met the "Regiment de la Charte" marching
from Paris on their way to Algiers, and their passage through the
country did not a little to excite the inhabitants. At Marseilles the
National Guard lined the Allees de Meillan, each man with a bouquet
stuck into the muzzle of his rifle, which he took out and threw into the
barouche in which I sat with General Gazan, so that I was soon fairly
buried, with nothing but my head sticking out, while the crowd shouted
at the top of its voice: "Vive le Prinnche!--Long live the Prince!" and
I heard women's voices adding, "Que sis poulid! Qui est si joli!"

I had hardly reached Toulon, ere the frigate I had joined put to sea, my