looking extremely upset and talking anxiously and excitedly together. I
could find nobody to attend to any business, and was at a loss what to do,
when a door opened and a general officer in undress uniform appeared on
the threshold of a large and finely appointed room.

I immediately recognized Trochu's extremely bald head and determined jaw,
for since his nomination as Governor, Paris had been flooded with
portraits of him. He had opened the door, I believe, to look for an
officer, but on seeing me standing there with a letter in my hand he
inquired what I wanted. I replied that I had brought a letter from the
British Embassy, and he may perhaps have thought that I was an Embassy
messenger. At all events, he took the letter from me, saying curtly:
"C'est bien, je m'en occuperai, revenez cet apres-midi." With those words
he stepped back into the room and carefully placed the letter on the top
of several others which were neatly disposed on a side-table.

The incident was trivial in itself, yet it afforded a glimpse of Trochu's
character. Here was the man who, in his earlier years, had organized the
French Expedition to the Crimea in a manner far superior to that in which
our own had been organized; a man of method, order, precision, fully
qualified to prepare the defence of Paris, though not to lead her army in
the field. Brief as was that interview of mine, I could not help noticing
how perfectly calm and self-possessed he was, for his demeanour greatly
contrasted with the anxious or excited bearing of his subordinates. Yet he
had reached the supreme crisis of his life. The Empire was falling, a
first offer of Power had been made to him on the previous evening; and a
second offer, which he finally accepted, [See my book, "Republican
France," p. 8.] was almost imminent. Yet on that morning of
Revolution he appeared as cool as a cucumber.