Then suddenly he put his hands to his shoulders, and tore off his epaulets, he drew his sword, broke it across his knee, threw the two fragments on the pavement, and, trembling with rage, exclaimed with a solemn voice, "Colonel, you disgrace the number of your regiment." "All right, all right," said Espinasse.
The Presidency door was left open, but all the other entrances remained closed.

All the guards were relieved, all the sentinels changed, and the battalion of the night guard was sent back to the camp of the Invalides, the soldiers piled their arms in the avenue, and in the Cour d'Honneur.
The 42d, in profound silence, occupied the doors outside and inside, the courtyard, the reception-rooms, the galleries, the corridors, the passages, while every one slept in the Palace.
Shortly afterwards arrived two of those little chariots which are called "forty sons," and two _fiacres_, escorted by two detachments of the Republican Guard and of the Chasseurs de Vincennes, and by several squads of police.

The Commissaries Bertoglio and Primorin alighted from the two chariots.
As these carriages drove up a personage, bald, but still young, was seen to appear at the grated door of the Place de Bourgogne.

This personage had all the air of a man about town, who had just come from the opera, and, in fact, he had come from thence, after having passed through a den.
He came from the Elysee.

It was De Morny.