Paris had only a few moments prior learned about the catastrophe at Sedan. The Republic was now proclaimed. France was still reeling from the delirium which lasted until the time of the commonwealth. For some unexplained reason, everyone took to acting as soldiers from one corner to the other of the country.
Capmakers were already acting as colonels by assuming the role of a general. Red sashes were draped over rotund bodies displaying revolvers and daggers as if they were capes. Common citizens with little to no experience donned the helmet of a soldier and strutted about leading an army of unruly volunteers while cursing fervently to prove their worth.
Citizens had acted as merchants and dealt with scales and measures and in contrast, using arms and guns openly excited them to such a degree that they became frightening to the common man for no apparent reason. To terrify onlookers devoid of a backbone, they even slaughtered a handful of defenseless citizens clearly to show that they had the capability to kill. Strolling through the virgin fields that still belonged to the Prussian hordes which lay fallow, they gunned down stray dogs, docile cows, and sickly horses. Everybody was under the impression that they were to take on the herculean task of solving all military affairs by themselves. Cafés found in the most remote towns which were filled with tradesman clad in the garb of soldiers resembled barracks or field hospitals.
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The town of Canneville had not yet received the news about the army and the base, which was the most exciting of all. However, it had seemed to be deeply outraged because a month before there had been an accident between two opposing factions. The lightly built old man with an aged appearance, viscount de Varnetot, had been holding onto the Empire for dear life until he realized that the crimson figure of dr. Massarel, a fierce counterreaction from the Republic party, was positioned right behind him. Dr, Marshal, a Masonary veteran lace, president of the Agricultural Society and the Fire Brigade and head of the country militia defense council, had single-handedly organized a vast bulk of opposition against the Empire.
Within two weeks, this man was able to convince a total of sixty-three men to voluntarily join the army; married heads of families, respectful shopkeepers and farmers of the town. These men were made to march on the front every morning at eight o’clock from the mayor’s house.
As soon as Massarel, the commander with two pistols on his pistols proudly hanging to show, started to walk before the troops he eloquently exclaimed “Long live the country!” to which soldiers started responding enthusiastically. It was clear that the viscount did not appreciate that.
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As his old peasant patients waited, the doctor made a house call at six. After sitting down, he properly dressed in uniform and placed his revolver upon the table. The man of the pair had been suffering from a varicose vein for seven years, but like the good husband he was, he decided to wait for his wife to develop one so they could pair the problem with a doctor’s adventure guided by their postman.
The rustic appeared visibly stunned as Dr Massarel opened the door and yelled: “Long live the Republic! Long live the Republic! Long live the Republic!” With his arms outstretched and head tilted back as if he was preparing to sink and desolate himself, he turned pale before bursting into a triumphant cheer. “I live for the Republic!” It was at that moment he marched over to his armchair and with a look of overwhelming feeling, slumped into it.
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The doctor said, “I have spent too much time with you stupid people. There is a Republic and France is freed.” Then he yelled for Celeste. The peasant went on to explain how he first felt tiny ants crawling along his legs to the point where he began to scratch them and the doctor interrupted him.
Seizing the momentary silence, the stubborn peasant speaking again, said, “This felt as if I had some cysts that would cause me ache when walking.”
“And if you had bathed your feet a little more regularly, it would have not occurred,” the physician blurted. “You have to be playing dull if you don’t know that we now live in a Republic.” And in one quick movement, seizing him by the neck, he began hissing all the while as though the world was engulfing him.
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The professional was becoming emmersed into the picture, and making every effort to stay calm, he let the shocked old couple out with the exact phrases, “I will tell you one more time, please come back tomorrow and make sure you do. Today, I have absolutely no time left for you,” hauntingers rewarded.
Torcheboeuf was repeatedly ordered in the short intervals, and with his quick feet hand whirling every now and then he faked to pitch a salute. Appearing with robes, he additionally offered every woman box that captured her breath. “Quick now, make your feet move. Celeste,” you can leave. Now, to begin with, organize your wits.
The commander disadvantageously expected them to appear in full uniform. “You with the rest better set,” he half turned with utter disbelief. The men as a pack walked through the doors. They had no dress and did not have travel garments.
“So you know nothing? Well, the Emperor is a prisoner and a new republic regime has begun. I, for one, am in a tricky situation to say the very least.”
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He pondered for several minutes while his aides were visibly confused and shocked, then spoke, “We need to move decisively. Delaying now translates into wasted minutes in the future. Everything depends on the readiness to make decisions. Picard, look for the curate get him to ring the bell so that the people can gather while I try to reach them beforehand. As for you, Torcheboeuf, go to the far away hamlets of Gerisaie and Salmare and beat the call to assemble the militia in arms to assemble in the square. Now Pommel, get your uniform which is a jacket and cap as we need to take possession of the mairie and summon Monsieur de Varnetot to authority in which I will have the power to give it to me. Are we clear?” “Yes.”
“Then execute, I will go with you to your house, Pommel, because we are partners.”
Exactly five minutes later, the commander and his subaltern, heavily armed, were in the square when the little Viscount de Varnetot, appeared around the corner walking fast with a rifle on his shoulder and hunting gaiters, being followed by his three guards in green jackets who had bakers’ knives at their hips and guns on their backs.
Now half dazed from the slap, a doctor noticed four men walking into the mayor’s house, the door shuttering behind them.
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“It seems we are too late,” remarked the doctor. “It seems all we can do now is wait for reinforcements, in about fifteen minutes.”
“And here is Lieutenant Picard! We were just discussing you,” he noted you standing over there, crisping the things together with another disclaimer. “He has disobeyed orders and locked himself in the church alongside the beadle and the porter.”
A mute and gloomy church stood on the other side of the square, directly across from the white semi-open facade of the mairie. From board bottom, it has also great oak door accompanied with iron borders.
The commander got his sword and went forward by himself to the middle distance between the two buildings at which the opposing side was barricaded, and with his sword drawn, he started shouting, “Long live the republic! Death to the traitors!”. After his speech, he ran towards the officers.
The butcher, the baker, and the apothecary, feeling a little unsure of the situation, boarded up the windows and locked the doors to their shops. The grocery, by contrast, remained open. While his troops received their order, the doctor drafted a quick plan of action. The remaining citizens then slowly caught on to what was happening. The men militiamen slowly started to arrive in various contrasting clothes but all of them sported the same cap. The cap was the only piece of clothing they wore, which served as the declared uniform for the unit.
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They had old, rusty guns that looked like they had been used for over 30 years, which made them appear as a group of provincial soldiers. The commander set about collecting a rough number of participants. After counting to around thirty the commander’s gave a gisted outline of the current situation. After which he turned to his commanding officer and said, “Now it is time to make a move.”
“Lieutenant Picard, you now go towards the windows of the mayor’s house, and you command Monsieur de Varnetot to surrender the town hall to me in the name of the Republic.”
But he was a pro mason, and he stubbornly declined.
“You truly are a scamp, you are, trying to make a target of me! Those people in there are decent shots, do you realize that? No, thank you! Carry out your commissions solo!”
The commander turned red. “I compel you to go in the name of discipline,” he said.
“I for one am not marring my looks blindly,” the lieutenant replied.
By a loose group nearby, there were great men identified who were laughing. One of them shouted: “You remain right, Picard, that is not as good a time.” The doctor as he walked away said under his breath, “Cowards!” And slowly in a paced manner, his gaze ahead at the windows as if anticipating a gun or a cannon pointing at him, giving a firm grip onto the sword and revolver with a single hand to the soldier.
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When he was almost at the steps of the building, a horde of small children, boys from one end and girls from the other filed out and swarmed around the doctor, chattering and playing. It was like watching a flock of birds take to the air at once.
As soon as the last people made their way out, the doors came to a close. As the majority of the little creatures scattered, the commander spoke with a louder pitch saying, “Monsieur de Varnetot?” A window in the first story opened and M. de Varnetot appeared.
The Commander proceeded: “I trust that you know the great changes which have taken place concerning the change of government. The party you represented is no more. The side that I represent has now come into power. These newly established but regretfully critical circumstances is what brings me here to ask you on behalf of the Republic to hand over the powers that you posses in trust from the departing administation.”
M. de Varnetot said: “I am from Canneville and I have been put in place by the relevant officials. As such, and until one of my superiors issues an order to revoke it, I will be the mayor of Canneville. He can tell me whatever he wishes, but as of now, I reside at the mairie. In addition, do make an attempt at forcibly removing me.” With that he shut the window.
The commander came back to his soldiers. He paused for a moment measuring Lieutenant Picard’s height and after that said, “You are a moron, you are – a silly, the shame of the military. Mark my words, I will demote you.”
The lieutenant provided an answer. “I will take care of it my way.” He shifted to where the group of angry citizens was standing.
Then the physician paused. He pondered for a moment. Should he carry out an attack? What if his men did not follow his orders? And, does it even matter, because was he wrong in the first place? A thought struck him. He dashed towards the telegraph office on the other side of the square and, with great haste, sent three dispatches: “To the Members of the Republican Government at Paris,” “To the New Republican Prefect of the Lower Seine at Rouen,” and “To the New Republican Subprefect of Dieppe.”
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He laid everything bare; spoke about the danger that the commonwealth faces by being left in the hands of a monarchistic mayor, pledged his faithful loyalty, awaited his orders, and then signed his name with all the prefixes and suffixes that came along with it. Afterward, he went back to his army corps, and taking out ten francs from his pocket, said, “I will now, my friends, with these sausages applaud your undoubted existence. Do them some good. Only gababout here and leave by this gate a little party of grass.”
Picard, having been set free, was busily prattling to the horologist and passed this rather, making some marginal remarks. “If I can offer my assistance, whether anything or anyone ‘comes out’, then I have a way of offering you the means of getting ‘into’ that’s otherwise, quite obscure, Leave none of you ‘in her?!’ I have no idea, but I can’t exclude ‘inπο’ can? as dull. Wouha!”
The physician clapped back instead attended his meal.
In the afternoon, he seemed to be pondering an astonishing revelation while taking care of offices located all over the town. He often walked past the mairie and church doors, not peeking through to see if anything was off. One would think that both structures were devoid of people.
The butcher, baker, and apothecary reopened their shops, and started conversing on the steps. If the Emperor had been taken prisoner, he must have been a traitor. There is no confidence in the revenue of any new republic.
Late at night, around nine o’clock, the doctor began his long trip back to the maire’s house. After an arduous day where he was sure his opponent had pulled out, he was expecting to be able to retreat quietly. As he attempted to force his way in with some blows from a pickaxe, a boom from a guard’s voice interrupted, yelling: “Who goes there?” M. Massarel, after hearing that, bolted at breakneck pace.
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The situation remained the same and new soldiers were guarding the square. The locals waited for something to happen while some people from far away went to see what the commotion was about. The doctor knew it was time for him to act and he was absolutely right. It was time for him to take brav dictions. Just as he was about to step outside the telegraph office, he saw an employee walk towards him, bill in hand. The office clerk had just instructed one of the servants to bring her two papers. It seemed she was in charge of the hut to relay the messenger.
Instead, I offered the remaining quote to a guy dressed as a military commander. Suddenly after he buzz Cutoff, his eyes were glued on my face as running high and she glued my eye on their heads from above the barricade behind which a whole convoy was hiding so on board the pregnant babe are civilians all well-chained.
I accepted and therefore immediately tore the envelope open. Behind the meeting point the guard kicked the entire closed grated door to the sides and a male figure reached to within the other side of the structure as the way around behind the barrier. From there, I was struck and immediately plunged unto grief with a thoroughly perplexed expression vividly blushing utterly full of tears without any excess now truly dumbfounded by justification tombed.
Doctor-turned-general, because these sorts of wounds require especially talented doctors, asked his audience to quiet down with above normal command, “Just a little bit of silence will go a long way at this point.” After the hush had become general, he went on with his proud head high:
Puffing in great anticipation, he said “I have a government communication. It has a certain sensation of importance.” As he elevated the dispatch towards his eyes, he read the major’s firstly orders.
“Sap Herceg, cancels all leave for the cabinet order, it’s impossible to manage, advise what should be done. Wait for further instruction. Naked and for sub-prefect ”
He has already won out. He felt his heart pound with happiness; hands shaking, trembling with emotion as he heard old Picard shout across the circle densely packed with folk.
“Give me a break! How do you propose the rest of them will come marching out, your paper doesn’t even give enough Whimsy for a single leg to stand on.” If that was the case, he had to brave the consequences. The doctor IPO began to dictate what would follow. Surely, his inner voice told him; were able to read the door marked “mayor’s office”. But no sign of life was founded in the entrance Eyes widening at the window, not a soul is disrupting his train of thought.
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The mob managed to fill out the perimeter, which on its opening was angrily staring at police, Which while ordinary felt bad, was somehow deeply amusing.
One thought, in particular, caused the doctor great pain. If he were to make an attack, he would have to lead the men to battle. With him dead, the fighting would stop, in which case it was Mr. de Varnetot and the three guards would have the honor of targeting him. And their aim was good. Very good. Picard had reminded him of that. However, an idea flashed in front of him, and he said to Pommel, “Go, do this quickly. Tell the apothecary I need a napkin and a pol.” The doctor was going to make a banner, a political one, which was set for white. It might, after all, delight the old legitimist, the mayor.
Pommel arrived once again, this time bringing the required linen and a broom stick. Massarel took the piece of cord to make a standard and with a few strokes, they made one. He advanced towards mayor’s residence carrying the standard full length in front of him. Once, he reached the door he yelled: “Monsieur de Varnetot!”.
As if the door opens by magic, M. de Varnetot with the three soldiers came and stood on the door. The doctor’s torso crumbled back automatically. After which, he respectfully bowed and told him, trembling and deeply emotional, “I have come, sir, to communicate to you the instructions I have just received.”{“I’m sorry my friend, without offering you the ability to exercise just, let me clarify and say that silence offered me a colonization with a man-eater and a lady that has usurped of power. ””Why would my head a single day serving of republic haveean up my vision in, that is all.
That man who is absent for no greeting answered with, “Deep from I’m undertaking you temainign this pero would knee this an adorned beauty the lady that recommendgy the signpower. By three scares with deep condemnation. They would probably piece appearing this seven meters.
As he got closer, he yelled, “Hooray! Hooray! The Republic floor wipes are now in stock!” and for some reason no emotions were shown. The doctor did try again. “You are free. You can do whatever you like. Do you get it? You should be honored!”
With very little energy, the villagers stares at the man trying to understand and get a glimpse of what he is talking about. And as was so angry at that uncaring attitude, paused to look at them. The next words I said had to somehow stir this dull country enough for them to understand. “Lieutenant, go and get the ex-emperor’s bust out of the council hall. Then come back with it and I’ll hand you the chair.”
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The Lieutenant’s Solomon came soon after and to my surprise, was carrying a straw-bottomed chair paired with Napoleon II made out of plaster resting upon his right shoulder.
Massarel approached with a chair that he placed on the ground. Setting down the white image, he stepped back a bit and declaimed:
“Tyrant! Defiler of castles and violator of beautiful places, I call you here! Depending on what manor you step into, a spine-chilling country start lets out a whimper and covers you. You are a tyrant! Enemies have taken you captive. You are destined to defeat whom: Avenge. Oh, vile creature, you are defiled. A slaver of the Prussians you are, what a disgraceful captor you become. And into what remains of the decaying Empire does the youthful radiant Republic rise, growing towards you whilst picking up the remains of your crumbling sword – a pathetic symbol of what you yourself hoped to wield.”
Waiting for the audience’s gestion, he received nothing but darkness, silence. Massarel was met with an unmoved look from the surrounding peasants who collectively rested their will and attention into the physiognomy, a physiognomy entirely given up to motion commuted to his jaw, which was slack, unmoving and constrained to stillness, placid face and plaster like grin beamed vacant ugly and sneering face around Massarel.
Doctor was some steps away from the statue of Napoleon. The stillness was disrupted by his enragement out of nowhere.
What could these people be rallied to achieve? What was there that stood to gain from framing an opinion for indecisive victory? This vibrant red sash, marking me as royal, somehow had my hand resting on my hip where the revolver was sheathed.
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My mind froze again, still unwilling to yield any words. His last act as King was to keep his hand frozen beside his waist. He took two steps forward and placed a pistol where he assumed the King’s head would be. The first bullet made a small sore mark akin to an eye sore, but worse. He released fire again, and again, and then, opened his revolver in a single attempt. White powder inhaled, but particulates inside the eyes, remaining untouched.
With tremendous impact, the bust was claimed by the doctor after a whole round, “Away with mighty infringements!” He horridly shouted. Striking it using his palm claimed its horizontal position, “Look how fantastic dictators receive computation.”
But neither seemed whacked to glory. A dazed silence prevailed instead. He called the protectors and scoffed, “You can track back to your several shelters.” With grueling footsteps, the aimless kept letters tumbling boundlessly trusting their arms would steer towards them.
When he arrived, his maid informed him some of the patients had already been waiting in his office for three hours. He quickly walked inside. The two varicose-vein patients were waiting, as usual, having returned at dawn – stubborn, yet patient.
“Let me start by saying,” the old man began, “I feel like ants are running up and down my legs.”
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