This induced the crowd to applaud, and many responded to the salute by waving their handkerchiefs likewise.

A group of people even came under the window shouting: "We'll bury it, we'll bury it." They meant the Republic, no doubt.

Such was Felicite's emotion, that she almost had a nervous attack.

It was a fine evening for the yellow drawing-room.
However, the marquis still looked at Felicite with the same mysterious smile.

This little old man was far too shrewd to be ignorant of whither France was tending.