From every direction came men still trembling with the fear which had
seized them when they fled twenty years before. All began to urge their
claims, disputing loudly and crying for help; it was strange that a
single death should attract so many crows.
The king of France was on his throne, looking here and there to see if he
could perchance find a bee in the royal tapestry. Some held out their
hats, and he gave them money; others showed him a crucifix, and he kissed
it; others contented themselves with pronouncing in his ear great names
of powerful families, and he replied to these by inviting them into his
_grand' salle_, where the echoes were more sonorous; still others showed
him their old cloaks, when they had carefully effaced the bees, and to
these he gave new apparel.
The children saw all this, thinking that the spirit of Caesar would soon
land at Cannes and breathe upon this larva; but the silence was unbroken
and they saw floating in the sky only the paleness of the lily. When
these children spoke of glory, they were answered: "Become priests;" when
they spoke of hope, of love, of power, of life: "Become priests."
And yet there mounted the rostrum a man who held in his hand a contract
between the king and the people; he began by saying that glory was a
beautiful thing, and ambition and war as well; but there was something
still more beautiful, and it was called liberty.
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