thinking themselves sheltered from the wrath of the mob, on the Boulevard Leopold, in the new part of the city, had illuminated their houses and decorated them with flags.
"To Béjard's!" howled the mob.
From the Place de Meir onward the demonstration took on a sinister aspect. The ranks of workmen, dockers and bourgeois disappeared to make way for a crowd of shameless fellows. They were no longer singing the "Hymne des Gueux," but were shouting incendiary refrains.
On the road, in the Avenue des Arts, a runner threw a paving stone through the door of the Saint-Fardier residence, the windows of which were decorated with lanterns. The panes of glass smashed to pieces. The wind, rustling a silk curtain, blew it close to the flame of a lantern; the goods took fire. The ferocious mob shivered and cheered the flames, an unexpected accomplice.
"That's it! Let's burn the whole caboose!"
But a half-company of gendarmes, the police, and a company of the civic guard prevented them from carrying this pleasantry any further.
While one part of the procession remained behind to annoy the gendarmes, the others made good their escape by passing through the side streets and coming out upon the Boulevard Leopold almost opposite Béjard's residence.
"Down with Béjard!… Down with the vendor of souls!… Down with the slave-trader!… Down with the torturer of children!…"
An outburst of bloodthirsty cries greeted the home of the oligarch. Whether or not he knew what was in the air, Béjard, the foreigner, the elect of the peas-
