It was twelve o'clock at night, on the 22nd of February, 1848.

Lights still gleamed in the vast edifice of "Le National" printing office, and in the editorial chamber were assembled the chiefs of the revolution.

"All goes well," said Louis Blanc. "The blow is struck; let it only be followed up, and the efforts of the past ten years will not prove vain!"

"How true was the opinion of M. DantÈs respecting the National Guard!" said Marrast.

"How true also respecting the workmen!" said Albert.

"How true respecting the Ministry!" said Ledru Rollin. "But where is M. DantÈs? Why is he not here?"

At that moment the private door opened, and M. DantÈs, Flocon and Lamartine entered.

"The news from the Chambers!" cried Marrast, as they approached.

"Three impeachments of the Ministry have been proposed," said Lamartine.

"By whom—by whom?" asked Louis Blanc. "By whom presented?"

"One by Odillon Barrot, one by Duvergier d'Hauranne and one by M. de Genoude, Deputy from Toulouse."

"And what said Guizot?" asked Marrast.

"Nothing. He only laughed when the papers were handed him by old President Sauzet."

"Ah!" cried Ledru Rollin.

"Few deputies were there," continued Flocon. "The opposition benches were vacant. Guizot was there early, pale and troubled, but stern and unbending. All the Ministers followed him."

"What was discussed?" asked Marrast.

"The Bordeaux Bank Bill."

"Ah!" cried Ledru Rollin again.

"Yes," continued Flocon, "until five o'clock that bill was discussed. Barrot then ascended the tribune and deposited a general proposition to impeach the Ministry."

"And what was done with it?" asked Louis Blanc.

"The President raised the sitting without reading it, but announced that the bureaux should have it for examination on Thursday."

"Infamous!" cried Ledru Rollin.

"It is all as it should be," said M. DantÈs, calmly.

"And the peers—what of them?"

"The Marquis de Boissy made an effort to get a hearing on the state of Paris, but, of course, it was in vain."

"Is it true," asked Flocon, "that the rappel has been beaten to-day?"

"It was beaten in the Quartier St. HonorÉ, at dawn," said Louis Blanc, "and this evening, at about five o'clock, in several of the arrondissements. But no reliance need be placed on the National Guard. They are with us—they are of the people—they shout, 'Vive la RÉforme!'"

"But the Municipal Guard and the Line? I am told that an immense body of them was this evening, at about eight o'clock, reviewed by the King and the Dukes of Nemours and Montpensier, in the Place du Carrousel," said Flocon.

"That's true," said Ledru Rollin; "I witnessed it myself in passing, and I could not help saying, 'It is the last.'"

"Six thousand troops of the Line are on the boulevards, from the Madeleine to the Porte St. Martin," said M. DantÈs. "The HÔtel de Ville, the Places de la Bastille, de la Concorde and du Carrousel, and the Quays frown with artillery. To-morrow will be a warm day!"

"It has been rather warm to-day in some parts of Paris," said Louis Blanc, smiling. "Was there ever a grander spectacle than that in the Place de la Concorde at noon? At least one hundred thousand men were there assembled. Rushing across the bridge, they gathered around the Chamber of Deputies—then from the southern gate of the Tuileries issued two bodies of troops, one of mounted Municipal Guards, the other infantry of the Line, and, pressing on the dense mass, they drove them over the bridge. Only a few old fruitwomen were crushed beneath the horses' hoofs, and a few of the troops were wounded by pebbles, however."

"At the same time," said Flocon, "all the chains in the Champs-ElysÉes were in requisition for a barricade, as well as all the public carriages, and the people sang the Marseillaise, the Parisienne and the Hymn of the Girondins. A guard-house was also consumed."

"Have you heard Bugeaud's remark at noon, when looking upon the Place de la Concorde?" asked Marrast.

"We have been too busy to-day to hear anything," said Ledru Rollin.

"'Ah! we shall have a day of it,' said the bloodthirsty old hero. 'I care not for the day,' said the pale Guizot, 'but the night!'"

"The people made quite a demonstration about Guizot, I hear," said Flocon. "They assailed him with a shower of groans, it is said, and some of the gamins flung pebbles at his gates."

"The most significant shout before the office of Foreign Affairs was this," said Ledru Rollin—"'Countess of Leven, where is the Minister?'"

"And the very moment this was occurring," said Flocon, "I understand that M. Thiers, on his return from the Chamber, in passing through the Champs-ElysÉes, narrowly escaped a most unwelcome ovation from the people. The two rivals were duly and simultaneously honored it seems."

"Thus much for to-day," said Marrast; "what of to-night?"

"Barricades rise all over Paris," said M. DantÈs. "But we can do no more. Let us each retire to his home. To-morrow the National Guard will fraternize with the people, and the Ministry will resign."

A few words of parting salutation passed, and all departed.

M. DantÈs and Lamartine left the office in company.

"What say you, Edmond," asked Lamartine, "will your wife spare you long enough from her pillow to make with me a brief tour of the town?"

"MercÉdÈs is rather exacting," said DantÈs, with a laugh; "but if your fair lady will suffer your absence, mine must do the same, I fear."

"Well, then, let us first to the HÔtel de Ville, that grand centre of Paris in all that is revolutionary."

As the two friends passed along, conversing on the events of the day and the anticipations of the morrow, they were met, from time to time, by knots of men at the corners, eagerly recounting the incidents of the hour; the roll of drums was heard in the distance, and occasionally there came the heavy and measured tread of infantry, the clatter of cavalry and the lumbering of artillery, as they passed on their way. All the shops and cafÉs were closed. Many of the lamps were demolished, and others were not lighted, the gas being shut off. A fearful gloom brooded over the city. The winter wind swept sharply and cuttingly along the deserted streets, and rain, which froze as it fell, at intervals dashed down.

The HÔtel de Ville was encompassed by troops as the friends approached it.

"Is that a cannon?" asked Lamartine, pointing to a dark object that protruded from an embrasure of the edifice.

"It is!" replied DantÈs.

"Then the revolution has, indeed, begun! Artillery in the streets of Paris!"

"Behind each column of the portico of the Chamber of Deputies this day frowned a concealed cannon!" was the significant response.

The friends turned off from the HÔtel de Ville, and, crossing the right branch of the Seine, were under the deep shadows of NÔtre Dame. But all was tranquil and still. Only the howlings of the wintry blast were heard through the towers and architectural ornaments of the old pile. Up the Rue St. Jacques, into the Quartier Latin, they then proceeded, but the students and the grisettes seemed to be fast asleep. Turning back, they passed the Fish Market, and here a large body of cavalry had bivouacked. Patrols marched to and fro; officers in huge dark cloaks smoked, laughed and chatted, regardless of the morrow. The friends went on. All was dark in the faubourg which succeeded. Not a light gleamed, save, in some lofty casement, the fainting candle of the worn-out needlewoman or of the overtasked student.

"Ah!" exclaimed Lamartine, as they passed one of these flickering lights, "who knows what plotting head and ready hand may be beside that candle? Who knows of the weapon burnished, the cartridge filled and the sabre sharpened by that light for the morrow?"

"The morrow!" exclaimed M. DantÈs; "that morrow decides the fate of France!"

And the friends parted.