They turn, their arms extended in the darkness towards those they have left behind.

Oh! how happy they who think no more of us! Every man suffers and at times waxes wroth.

The names of all the executioners are engraven in the memory of all.

Each has something to curse,--Mazas, the hulk, the dungeon, the informer who betrayed, the spy who watched, the gendarme who arrested him, Lambessa, where one has a friend, Cayenne, where one has a brother; but there is one thing that is blessed by all, and that is thou, France! Oh! a complaint, a word against thee, France! No! no! one's country is never so deeply fixed in the heart as when one is torn from it by exile.
They will do their whole duty, with a tranquil brow and unshaken perseverance.

Never to see thee again is their sorrow, never to forget thee their joy.
Ah, what grief! And after eight months it is in vain that we say to ourselves that these things are so; it is in vain that we look around us and see the spire of Saint-Michael's instead of the Pantheon, and Saint-Gudule instead of Notre-Dame,--we cannot believe it.
It is, however, true, it cannot be denied, we must admit it, we must acknowledge it, even though we expire of humiliation and despair,--that which is lying there, on the ground, is the nineteenth century, is France! And it is this Bonaparte who has caused all this ruin! And it is in the very centre of the greatest nation upon earth! it is in the midst of the greatest century of all history, that this man has suddenly risen and has triumphed! To seize upon France as his prey, great Heaven! What the lion would not dare to do, the ape has done! what the eagle would have dreaded to seize in his talons, the parrot has taken in his claws! What! Louis XI failed! Richelieu destroyed himself in the attempt! Even Napoleon was unequal to it! In a single day, between night and morning, the absurd became the possible! All that was axiomatic has become chimerical.