It was with difficulty that my father and myself contrived to avoid the
troopers and reach the Avenue Gabriel, whence we made our way home.
Meantime there had been disturbances in other parts of Paris. On the
Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle a band of demonstrators had come into collision
with the police, who had arrested several of them. Thus, as I have already
mentioned, the authorities seemed to be as vigilant and as energetic as
ever. But, without doubt, on that night of Saturday, September 3, the
secret Republican associations were very active, sending the _mot d'ordre_
from one to another part of the city, so that all might be ready for
Revolution when the Legislative Body assembled on the morrow.

It was on this same last night of the Empire that George Augustus Sala met
with the very unpleasant adventure to which I previously referred. During
the evening he went as usual to the Grand Cafe, and meeting Blanchard
Jerrold there, he endeavoured to induce him to go to supper at the Cafe du
Helder. Sala being in an even more talkative mood than usual, and--now
that he had heard of the disaster of Sedan--more than ever inclined to
express his contempt of the French in regard to military matters, Jerrold
declined the invitation, fearing, as he afterwards said to my father in my
presence, that some unpleasantness might well ensue, as Sala, in spite of
all remonstrances, would not cease "gassing." Apropos of that expression,
it is somewhat amusing to recall that Sala at one time designed for
himself an illuminated visiting-card, on which appeared his initials G. A.
S. in letters of gold, the A being intersected by a gas-lamp diffusing
many vivid rays of light, whilst underneath it was a scroll bearing the
appropriate motto, "Dux est Lux."

But, to return to my story, Jerrold having refused the invitation; Sala
repaired alone to the Cafe du Helder, an establishment which in those