The Young Franc Tireurs

 The usually quiet old town of Dijon was in a state of excitement. There were groups of people in the streets; especially round the corners, where the official placards were posted up. Both at the Prefecture and the Maine there were streams of callers, all day. Every functionary wore an air of importance, and mystery; and mounted orderlies galloped here and there, at headlong speed. The gendarmes had twisted their mustaches to even finer points than usual, and walked about with the air of men who knew all about the matter, and had gone through more serious affairs than this was likely to be.