What of it?
Wayfarer, your looks displease him, and he blows your brains out with a pistol, and goes home.

What of it?
All these things being done, what would be the result?
Nothing.
"Monseigneur the Prince-President took his customary drive yesterday in the Champs Elysees, in a caleche _a la Daumont_, drawn by four horses, accompanied by a single aide-de-camp." This is what the newspapers will say.
He has effaced from the walls Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity; and he is right.

Frenchmen, alas! you are no longer either free,--the strait-waistcoat is upon you; or equal,--the soldier is everything; or brothers,--for civil war is brewing under this melancholy peace of a state of siege.
Emperor?
Why not?
He has a Maury who is called Sibour; he has a Fontanes, or, if you prefer it, a _Faciuntasinos_, who is called Fortoul; he has a Laplace who answers to the name of Leverrier, although he did not produce the "_Mecanique Celeste_." He will easily find Esmenards and Luce de Lancivals.

His Pius VII is at Rome, in the cassock of Pius IX.

His green uniform has been seen at Strasburg; his eagle has been seen at Boulogne; his grey riding-coat, did he not wear it at Ham?
Cassock or riding-coat, 'tis all one.